THE 

FOURTH  WATCH 


H.A.  CODY 


JOHN  SKALLY  TERRY 
MEMORIAL  COLLECTION 


ESTABLISHED  BY 

THE  FAMILY  IN  HONOR  OF 

JOHN  S.  TERRY 

CLASS  OF  1918 


THE  UNIVERSITY  OF 
NORTH  CAROLINA  LIBRARY 


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UNIVERSITY  OF  N.C.  AT  CHAPEL  HILL 


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THE  FOURTH  WATCH 

H.   A.   CODY 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 

in  2012  with  funding  from 

University  of  North  Carolina  at  Chapel  Hill 


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THE 
FOURTH  WATCH 

BY 

H.  A.  CODY 


AUTHOR  OF 

THE  FRONTIERSMAN,  UNDER  SEALED 

ORDERS,  THE  LONG  PATROL,  Etc. 


NEW    YORK 

GROSSET    &    DUNLAP 

PUBLISHERS 


Copyright,  1911, 
By  George  H.  Doran  Company 


TO  ALL 

Messengers,  "Watchmen  and  Stewards  of  the  Lord," 
"who  have  faithfully  toiled  through  life's  long 
night,  and  now  ln  their  fourth  and  last  watch 
behold  the  dawn  of  a  new  llfe  breaking,  this  book 
is  affectionately  dedicated  by  one  but  yet  ln  the 
Second  Watch 


)137 


CONTENTS 


I. — The  Awakening             .        , 

9 

II. — The  Vision                                . 

16 

III. — Glendow  Rectory. 

,      24 

IV. — The  Warder  of  the   Nighi 

i 

34 

V. — The  Breath  of  Slander      , 

42 

VI. — The  Auction  .         .         . 

51 

VII. — The  Farringtons  . 

60 

VIII.— The  Golden  Key  . 

69 

IX. — Beating  the  Devil 

.       81 

X. — In  Camp  . 

.       91 

XI. — Guarding  the  Flock 

.       99 

XII. — Light  and  Shadow 

,     108 

XIII. — For  the  Sake  of  a  Child 

119 

XIV.— The  Long  Night    . 

.     126 

XV. — Deepening  Shadows 

.     135 

XVI. — For  Sweet  Love's  Sake 

.     143 

XVII. — Hitting  Back. 

.     154 

XVIIL— Wash-Tub  Philosophy  . 

.     164 

XIX.— The  Sting 

.     177 

XX. — The  Overseer 

.     187 

XXI. — Decision. 

.     200 

XXII. — In  the  Deep  of  the  Heari 

.    210 

CONTENTS 

CHAPTER 

XXIII.- 

—Where  is  Dan?    . 

PAGE 

.     220 

XXIV.- 

—The  Rush  of  Doom 

.     233 

XXV.- 

—Beneath  the  Ashes 

.     244 

XXVI.- 

— A  Rope  op  Sand  .         .         , 

.     256 

XXVII.- 

—In  the  Toils 

.     268 

XXVIII.- 

—Waiting  and  Serving  .        , 

.     276 

XXIX.- 

—Rifted  Clouds 

.     286 

XXX. 

—Beneath  the  Surface  . 

.     293 

XXXI.- 

—Light  at  Eventide 

.    304 

THE  FOURTH  WATCH 


CHAPTER  I 
THE  AWAKENING 

THE  boy  plied  his  hoe  in  a  listless  manner,  for  his 
thoughts  were  elsewhere.  Several  hundred 
yards  to  the  right  stood  the  forest,  glorious  in 
its  brilliant  autumn  hues.  There  among  those  trees  the 
wary  partridges  were  feeding  or  perching  temptingly 
upon  bough,  fallen  log  or  ragged  stump.  To  the  left 
the  waters  of  the  noble  River  St.  John  rippled  and 
sparkled  beneath  the  glowing  sun.  Over  there  amidst 
that  long  stretch  of  marshland,  in  many  a  cove  and 
reedy  creek,  the  wild  ducks  were  securely  hidden.  What 
connection  had  a  rugged,  stirring  lad  with  a  brown 
sombre  potato  patch  when  the  strong  insistent  voice  of 
the  wild  was  calling  him  to  fields  afar  ?  There  was  no 
inspiration  here — among  these  straggling  rows.  Noth- 
ing to  thrill  a  boy's  heart,  or  to  send  the  blood  surging 
and  tingling  through  his  body.  But  there — !  He 
sighed  as  he  leaned  upon  his  hoe  and  looked  yearningly 
around.  Down  on  the  shore,  in  a  sheltered  cove  among 
the  trees,  the  Scud,  a  small  boat,  was  idly  flapping  her 
dirty  patched  sail. 

"  Wonder  what  dad  left  it  up  for  ?  "  thought  the  boy. 

9 


10  THE    FOURTH    WATCH 

"  Maybe  he's  going  after  more  ducks.  Wish  to  good- 
ness he'd  help  with  these  potatoes  so  I  could  get  off, 
too." 

Then  his  eyes  roamed  out  over  the  water  until  they 
rested  upon  a  white  sail  away  in  the  distance,  bearing 
steadily  down-stream.  He  watched  it  carelessly  for 
some  time,  but  noticing  the  manner  in  which  it  drooped 
Tinder  an  occasional  squall  his  interest  became  aroused. 

"There's  too  much  canvas,  that's  sure!"  he  ejacu- 
lated. "  Some  idiot,  I  s'pose,  who  doesn't  know  'bout 
these  squalls.  Guess  he'll  learn  soon  if  he  isn't  careful. 
Now  the  Scud,  she's  all  right.  I'd  risk  her  any  time — 
My — !  "  and  he  almost  held  his  breath  as  the  white 
sail,  much  nearer  now,  swooped  to  the  water  like  the 
wing  of  a  gigantic  bird.  The  boat  righted  herself,  how- 
ever, and  sped  gracefully  forward.  Again  and  again 
she  dipped  and  careened  under  each  successive  squall, 
winning  the  lad's  unstinted  admiration.  But  even  as 
he  looked  and  wondered,  a  furious  gust  caught  the  white 
sail  as  it  listed  heavily,  and  drove  it  with  one  sweep 
to  the  water,  overturning  the  boat  as  it  did  so.  With 
a  cry  of  fear  the  boy  dropped  his  hoe,  stared  for  an 
instant  at  the  overturned  craft,  and  then  sped  across 
the  potato  field  sloping  to  the  shore.  He  did  not  wait 
to  go  by  the  path,  which  led  straight  up  to  a  little  cabin 
in  the  valley,  but,  making  a  short  cut  to  the  left,  leaped 
into  a  tangled  thicket  beyond.  lie  crashed  his  way 
through  the  branches  and  underbrush,  not  heeding  the 
numerous  scratches  upon  face  and  hands. 

He  reached  the  Scud,  tore,  rather  than  untied  the 


THE   AWAKENING  113 

painter  from  an  old  oak  root,  and  sent  the  boat  reeling 
backwards  from  its  moorings.  The  sail  flapped  wildly 
in  the  breeze,  which  was  now  growing  stronger,  and 
the  craft  began  to  drift.  Catching  up  the  centre-board, 
lying  near,  the  boy  drove  it  down  into  its  narrow 
groove  with  a  resounding  thud.  Seizing  the  sheet-line 
with  one  hand,  and  squatting  well  astern  he  grasped  the 
tiller  with  the  other.  Nobly  the  boat  obeyed  her  little 
determined  commander.  The  sail  filled,  she  listed  to 
the  left  and  darted  forward,  bearing  bravely  up  the 
wind.  Straight  ahead  the  boy  could  see  the  distressed 
boat  sinking  lower  and  lower  in  the  water,  with  a  man 
and  a  woman  clinging  desperately  to  the  upturned  side. 
The  wind  was  now  whistling  around  him,  and  at  times 
threatening  to  rip  away  the  patched  sail.  The  water 
was  rough,  and  the  angry  white-caps  were  dashing  their 
cold  spray  over  his  clothes.  But  not  for  an  instant  did 
he  swerve  from  his  course  until  quite  near  the  wreck. 
Then  letting  go  the  sheet-line  he  permitted  the  boat  to 
fall  away  a  little  to  the  left.  In  this  manner  he  was 
able  to  swing  gradually  in  a  half-circle,  and  by  the 
time  he  was  up  again  to  the  teeth  of  the  wind  the  Scud 
was  lying  close  to  the  overturned  boat. 

So  preoccupied  had  been  the  boy  up  to  this  moment 
that  he  had  no  time  to  observe  closely  the  shipwrecked 
pair.  Now,  however,  he  cast  a  curious  glance  in  their 
direction,  as  he  let  go  the  rudder  and  sheet-line,  and 
threw  out  the  painter  to  the  man.  Eagerly  the  latter 
seized  the  rope,  and  managed  to  hold  the  two  boats 
together. 


12  THE    FOURTH    WATCH 

"  Give  us  yer  hand,"  shouted  the  boy,  "  and  let  her 
come  out  first.  Be  careful  now,"  he  continued  as  the 
crafts  bumped  against  each  other.  "  There,  that's 
good." 

With  considerable  difficulty  the  two  strangers  were 
rescued  from  their  perilous  position,  and  then  the  Scud 
dropped  away  from  the  wreck. 

"  Where  do  you  want  to  go  ?  "  asked  the  boy,  as  once 
again  he  brought  the  boat  to  the  wind. 

"  Over  there,"  responded  the  man,  pointing  to  the 
opposite  shore.  "  We  can  land  on  that  point  and  get 
driven  home." 

Almost  mechanically  the  boy  swung  the  Scud  around, 
and  headed  her  for  the  place  indicated.  From  the  mo- 
ment he  had  caught  a  glimpse  of  the  woman  clinging  to 
the  boat  he  had  found  it  hard  to  turn  away  his  eyes. 
Her  hat  was  gone,  and  the  wind  was  blowing  her  dark- 
brown  hair  about  her  face,  which  was  white  as  death. 
But  when  she  turned  her  large  blue  eyes  filled  with 
gratitude  and  fear  upon  her  rescuer,  a  strange  feeling  of 
embarrassment  swept  suddenly  over  him.  Women  he 
had  seen  before,  but  none  such  as  this.  How  quiet  she 
was,  too — not  a  cry  or  complaint  did  she  make.  Her 
clothes  were  wet;  the  water  cold,  and  the  wind  raw. 
But  she  sat  there  in  the  boat  watching  him  with  those 
big  eyes  as  he  guided  the  Scud  steadily  forward. 

He  looked  at  her  dress,  how  neat  and  clean  it  was. 
Then  he  glanced  at  his  own  rough  togs.  How  coarse, 
worn  and  dirty  were  they,  while  his  shoes  were  heavy 
grey  brogans.     A  flush  mantled  his  sun-browned  face. 


THE    AWAKENING  13 

He  shifted  uneasily,  gripped  the  tiller  more  firmly, 
arid  drove  the  Scud  a  point  nearer  to  the  wind.  What 
must  she  think  of  him?  he  wondered.  Was  she  com- 
paring him  with  the  well-dressed  man  at  her  side,  who 
was  looking  thoughtfully  out  over  the  blue  water?  A 
feeling  of  jealousy  stole  into  his  heart.  He  had  never 
known  such  a  thing  before.  He  knew  what  it  was  to  be 
angry — to  stamp  and  shout  in  his  rage.  He  had  en- 
gaged in  several  pitched  battles  with  the  boys  in  the 
neighbourhood  who  had  made  fun  of  him.  But  his  life 
— a  life  of  freedom — had  satisfied  him.  To  hunt,  to 
trap,  to  wander  over  hill,  valley  and  forest  was  all  that 
he  asked  for.  He  had  never  thought  of  anything  higher, 
never  dreamed  of  any  life  but  the  one  his  father  led, 
hunting,  and  trapping  in  season  and  making  a  slight 
pretence  of  farming.  Now,  however,  something  was 
stirring  within  him.  He  longed  to  show  this  woman 
that  though  his  clothes  and  shoes  were  rough,  he  was 
almost  a  man  and  could  do  great  things. 

"  What  is  your  name,  my  boy  ?  " 

The  words  startled  him,  and  he  glanced  quickly  up. 
The  woman  was  looking  at  him  still,  but  now  she  was 
smiling.     Was  she  laughing  at  him  ? 

"  My  name's  Dan,"  was  the  reply. 

"  Dan,  Dan  what  ?  " 

"  Oh,  just  old  Jim's  boy." 

"  Old  Jim,  Old  Jim !  "  repeated  the  woman.  "  Do 
you  mean  Jim  Flitter,  the  trapper  ?  " 

"  Yep,  that's  him." 

11  And  do  you  live  over  there  ?  " 


14  THE    FOURTH    WATCH 

u  Yep.  In  that  shanty  up  the  valley,  Dad  and  I 
live  there  alone." 

"  Have  you  no  mother,  Dan  \  "  and  the  woman's  voice 
was  soft  and  low. 

"  Xone  now." 

She  was  about  to  question  further,  but  noticing  the 
look  upon  the  boy's  face  she  desisted. 

"  Do  you  know  you've  saved  our  lives  ?  "  she  re- 
marked after  a  short  silence.  "  I  can  never  thank  you 
enough  for  what  you  have  done  for  us  to-day.  I  don't 
think  I  could  have  clung  to  that  boat  much  longer." 

"  I  ain't  done  nuthin',"  Dan  replied.  "  But  next 
time  you  go  out  don't  carry  so  much  sail,  specially  when 
it's  squally.  I  mayn't  always  be  handy  like  I  was 
to-day.  But  come,  we're  at  the  pint,  so  I'll  land  you 
here."  Saying  which,  Dan  let  the  sail  go  free,  and  ran 
the  boat  gently  up  the  pebbly  shore. 

"  JSTow,  my  boy,"  asked  the  man,  "  how  much  do  I 
owe  you  ?  "  Dan  had  stooped  and  was  about  to  push 
the  Scud  from  the  beach.  He  looked  up  quickly  at  the 
question,  but  made  no  reply. 

"  How  much  ?  "  demanded  the  man,  somewhat  im- 
patiently. 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  asked  the  boy. 

"  What  do  I  mean  ?  Simply  this.  You've  done  us  a 
great  service,  saved  us  from  death,  and  how  much 
money  do  you  want  ?    How  much  shall  I  pay  you  ?  " 

"  Xuthin'." 

Dan  was  standing  erect  now.  His  dark  eyes  fixed 
full  upon  the  man's  face,  flashed  with  anger,  while  his 


THE    AWAKENING  15 

heart  thumped  tumultuously  beneath  his  little  checkered 
shirt. 

"  What !  won't  take  any  pay !  " 

"  No !  " 

"  And  why  not  ?  " 

"  Cause  I  won't.  You've  no  right  to  as"k  me.  It 
ain't  fair !  " 

That  was  all  Dan  could  utter.  He  could  not  express 
his  feelings ;  repugnance  filled  his  heart  at  the  thought 
of  taking  money  for  what  he  had  done.  He  felt  the 
woman's  eyes  fixed  upon  him.  What  would  she  think, 
of  him,  Dan  Flitter,  taking  money  for  saving  people's 
lives  ?  He  gave  one  quick  glance  in  her  direction, 
turned,  and  pushing  the  boat  from  the  shore,  sprang  in, 
leaving  the  man  and  the  woman  upon  the  beach  gazing 
wonderingly  after  him. 


D 


son. 


CHAPTER  n 

TnE  vision: 

ANNY,  what's  the  meaning  of  this  ? " 

Mr.  Flitter  laid  clown  his  paper,  took  his  pipe 
from  his  mouth,  and  looked  inquiringly  at  hia 

Dan  was  seated  at  the  farther  end  of  the  table,  clean- 
ing his  beloved  shot-gun.     It  had  done  good  work  that 
day    and  a  fine  string  of  partridges  hung  in  an  outer 
room,  ready  to  go  to  the  store  early  the  next  morning. 
A  week  had  now  passed  since  the  rescue  on  the  river, 
and  during  the  whole  of  that  time  he  had  said  nothing 
about  it  to  his  father.     There  was  a  reason  for  this. 
The  latter  had  been  much  away  from  home  during  the 
dav,  only  coming  in  late  at  night  when  his  son  was  m 
bed   so  they  had  little  chance  for  conversation     It  was 
a  busy  season,  and  they  must  make  the  most  of  it.    bo 
while  the  one  scoured  the  forest  for  partridges    the 
other  searched  the  river  for  ducks  and  geese     But  Dan 
did  not  feel  inclined  to  say  anything  to  his  father  about 
what  he  had  done.     To  him  it  was  not  worth  mention- 
W      That  he  had  picked  up  two  shipwrecked  people, 
and  set  them  ashore,  in  his  eyes  was  a  very  simple 
thing      It  was  made  less  so  by  the  thought  of  that 
woman  with  the  large  eyes,  beautiful  face  and  sunny 

16 


THE    VISION  1% 

smile.  How  could  he  describe  to  his  father  the  new  feel- 
ing which  had  come  into  his  breast,  the  longing  for 
something  more  than  the  life  he  was  leading,  and  the 
desire  to  show  that  woman  what  he  really  could  do  ? 

His  father's  sudden  question  startled  him.  The 
mail  was  carried  but  once  a  week  to  this  place,  and  by 
the  time  the  paper  arrived  from  the  post  office  it  was 
several  days  old.  Mr.  Flitter  had  come  home  earlier 
than  usual,  having  had  a  fine  day's  shooting  on  the 
river,  and  was  in  excellent  spirits.  Game  was  in  great 
demand,  and  he  looked  hopefully  for  good  sales  on  the 
morrow.  After  their  scanty  meal  he  picked  up  the 
paper  and  began  to  read.  Silence  reigned  in  the  little 
dingy  shanty  for  some  time,  broken  only  by  the  short, 
sharp  question. 

"  Don't  you  know  anything  about  it,  Danny  ?  "  in- 
sisted Mr.  Flitter,  noticing  the  startled  and  puzzled  look 
upon  his  son's  face. 

"  What  do  you  mean,  dad  ?  " 

*  Why,  about  that  wreck  on  the  river.  This  paper 
says  that  you  saved  two  people  from  drowning  right  off 
here  over  a  week  ago." 

Dan's  face  flushed  and  his  heart  beat  fast.  What! 
was  his  name  in  the  paper  ?  Would  the  people  in  the 
big  city  see  it  ?  What  would  the  boys  in  the  neighbour- 
hood think  ?  Would  they  make  fun  of  him  any 
more  ?  He  could  show  them  now  that  he  was  somebody, 
for  his  name  was  in  the  paper !  These  thoughts  drove 
surgingly  through  his  brain.  He  rose  from  his  place 
and  stood  by  his  father's  side. 


18  THE    FOURTH    WATCH 

"  Show  me,  dad,"  be  whispered ;  "  let  me  see  it." 

"  There,  Danny,  look  at  the  heading: — 

"  '  A  Boy's  Brave  Deed.'  " 

"  And  is  that  long  piece  all  about  me,  dad  ?  " 

"  Yes,  and  it  states  what  you  did.  Why  didn't  you 
tell  me  about  it,  son  ?  " 

"  Where's  my  name,  dad  ?  "  asked  Dan,  unheeding 
his  father's  question. 

"  There,"  and  Mr.  Flitter,  pointing  with  his  finger, 
spelled  out  the  words,  "  Daniel  Flitter." 

"Does  it  say,  dad,  who  those  people  were  that  got 
swamped  ?  " 

"  Ko,  their  names  are  not  given.  It  only  says  that 
the  young  man  lives  in  the  city.  But  why  didn't  you 
tell  me  about  it,  Dan  ?  " 

"  Thought  it  wasn't  worth  while,"  replied  the  boy. 
"  But  I  don't  see  how  they  know  about  it  down  there  to 
put  it  in  the  paper." 

"  How  did  it  happen,  son.  Let's  have  the  whole 
story."  Mr.  Flitter  pulled  off  his  boots,  lighted  his 
pipe  afresh,  and  leaned  back  to  listen. 

"  I  wonder  who  that  woman  is,"  he  remarked,  when 
Dan  had  finished  his  brief  account.  "  I  know  most 
people  for  miles  around,  and  it's  strange  I  don't  know 
her  from  your  description.  However,  I  shall  make 
inquiries  and  find  out." 

During  the  days  that  followed,  Dan  lived  in  a  new 
world.  His  feet  trod  the  earth,  and  he  trudged  for  miles 
the  woodland  ways.    But  his  mind  was  in  fairyland. 

It  was  an  enchanted  world  through  which  he  moved, 


THE    VISION  19 

and  he  was  master  of  all.  The  trees  on  every  side  were 
crowds  of  admiring  people,  and  the  branches  were 
so  many  outstretched  hands  pointing  to  him.  Hi3 
breast  swelled  with  pride.  He  walked  erect,  his  head 
held  high,  while  his  eyes  flashed  with  a  triumphant 
light.  The  birds  sang  his  praises;  the  squirrels  chat- 
tered one  to  another,  and  every  brook  babbled  "  Daniel 
Flitter,  Daniel  Flitter."  His  name  had  appeared  in 
the  paper!  He  was  no  longer  an  obscure  person,  but 
a  hero — a  wonder !  He  kept  the  clipping  carefully 
wrapped  up  in  his  pocket.  Often  he  would  sit  down  in 
some  quiet  forest  spot,  unfold  his  treasure  and  look 
long  and  proudly  upon  those  two  magic  words.  One 
day  as  he  sat  studying  the  paper  a  desire  came  into 
his  heart  to  know  all  of  those  wonderful  words  before 
and  after  his  name.  He  could  not  read,  never  having 
gone  to  school.  In  fact  he  never  wanted  to  do  so.  His 
one  aim  was  to  be  a  mighty  hunter  and  trapper  like  his 
father.  But  now,  a  longing  had  entered  his  soul ;  a 
spark  from  the  mysterious  fire  of  life  had  found  a  lodg- 
ing which  needed  only  a  little  fanning  to  produce  a 
bright  and  fervent  flame. 

"  Dad,"  said  he,  that  night,  while  eating  his  sup- 
per, "  I  wish  I  knew  how  to  read.  All  the  boys  in  this 
settlement  can  read  and  write.  Ain't  I  old  enough  to 
begin  ?  " 

"  You're  old  enough,  lad,  but  we  live  a  long  way  from 
the  schoolhouse,  and  when  you  were  little  it  was  too  far 
for  you  to  walk.  You  might  go  this  winter,  when  there's 
spare  time,  if  you  don't  mind  the  distance." 


20  THE    FOURTH    WATCH 

"  I  don't  mind  that,  dad,  but  all  the  rest  will  know  so 
much  that  they'll  make  fun  of  me.  I  only  know  a  few 
of  my  letters,  and  mother  taught  me  them  before  she 
died." 
f  "  She  did,  lad,  she  did,  God  bless  her,"  and  a  huski- 
ness  came  into  Mr.  Flitter's  voice  as  he  spoke.  "  If 
she  were  alive  now  you  would  know  as  much  as  any  boy 
of  your  age,  for  your  mother  was  a  smart  one,  and  I 
guess  you  take  after  her,  Dan. 

"  I  wish  I  had  her  now,"  and  the  boy  gave  a  deep 
sigh.  "  She'd  help  me  every  night,  and  I  wouldn't  be 
stupid  any  more." 

Mr.  Flitter  made  no  reply  to  these  words.  He  fin- 
ished his  supper  in  silence,  and  while  Dan  washed  the 
few  dishes  he  sat  thoughtfully  smoking  his  old  clay 
pipe. 

"  Laddie,"  he  remarked  as  they  were  preparing  for 
bed,  "  I've  been  having  deep  thoughts  to-night,  and  I've 
come  to  the  conclusion  that  I  haven't  done  right  by  you. 
I've  neglected  you  too  much." 

"  In  what  way,  dad  ?  "  questioned  the  boy. 

"  Oh,  in  many  ways.  I've  fed  and  clothed  you, 
though  I  guess  you've  earned  it  all.  But  I've  not 
thought  enough  about  your  mind — your  education,  I 
mean.  Besides,  there  are  deeper  and  more  serious 
things  in  life  of  which  I've  told  you  nothing.  I  do  feel 
mighty  guilty  when  I  think  about  it  all." 

"  You've  been  good  to  me,  though,"  and  Dan  looked 
inquiringly  into  his  father's  face. 

"  Yes,  in  a  way.     But,  then,  haven't  I  been  good  to 


THE   VISION  21 

our  old  mare,  Queen?  I  feed  and  blanket  her.  Eut 
what  more  have  I  done  for  you — and  you  are  my  own 
son  ?  Now  look  here,"  he  added,  after  a  pause,  "  I'm 
willing  to  teach  you  at  nights  how  to  read,  and  see  if 
we  can't  make  up  for  my  past  neglect." 

"  Dad !    D'  you  mean  it  ?  " 

"  There  now,  that'll  do.  No  more  talking.  Let's  off 
to  bed,  and  we'll  have  the  first  lesson  to-morrow  night." 

The  days  that  followed  were  busy  ones  for  Dan.  The 
shooting  season  closed,  but  there  was  other  work  to  do. 
The  rabbits  had  to  be  snared  and  his  regular  rounds 
made  to  the  traps  set  for  the  wiry  mink,  lumbering  rac- 
coon, and  the  wily  fox.  Each  night,  the  animals 
brought  in  during  the  day  had  to  be  skinned,  and  the 
pelts  carefully  stretched.  Then  when  this  had  been 
accomplished  to  his  satisfaction  he  would  turn  his 
attention  to  his  studies. 

His  father  was  cutting  cord-wood  for  a  neighbour, 
and  was  able  to  get  home  at  night.  Then  the  two  pored 
over  the  mysterious  letters  and  words  in  the  little  cabin, 
the  elder  doing  his  best  to  impart  his  scanty  knowledge 
to  the  younger.  They  were  happy  times  for  Dan.  He 
had  something'to  live  for  now,  and  throughout  the  day, 
as  he  wandered  from  trap  to  trap,  the  words  he  had 
studied  the  night  before  kept  ringing  in  his  ears. 

But,  alas !  such  scenes  were  to  be  dispelled  all  too 
soon.  They  were  too  good  to  last  long.  One  evening 
Dan  returned  home  to  find  an  unusual  commotion  about 
the  place.  Men  and  women  were  there  who  had  never 
before  entered  the  building.    And  the  doctor,  whom  he 


22  THE    FOUKTH    WATCH 

had  often  met  on  the  road,  what  was  he  doing  there? 
What  were  they  whispering  about  ?  and  why  did  they 
look  at  him  in  that  way,  when  he  entered  the  house  ? 
Where  was  his  father  ?  Who  was  that  lying  on  the  bed 
so  very  still  ?  Could  it  be  dad  %  He  had  never  seen  him 
like  that  before.  Then  the  thought  flashed  upon  him: 
something  was  wrong!  His  father  was  hurt!  and  with 
a  cry  he  rushed  forward,  and  bent  over  the  prostrate 
form.  But  no  word  of  welcome,  no  sign  of  recognition 
did  he  receive.  iSFothing  but  that  vacant  stare  met  his 
ardent  gaze. 

Slowly,  very  slowly,  he  grasped  the  meaning  of  it  all, 
as  the  sympathetic  watchers  told  the  brief  story.  His 
father  had  met  with  a  serious  accident.  A  large  birch 
tree  in  falling  had  lodged  against  another,  a  sturdy 
maple.  While  cutting  at  the  latter  the  birch  had  sud- 
denly turned  over  and  swooping  to  the  ground  with  a 
resounding  crash  had  buried  Mr.  Flitter  beneath  the 
branches  ere  he  had  had  time  to  escape.  He  had  been 
carried  home  bruised,  broken,  and  unconscious.  The 
doctor  had  been  hurriedly  summoned,  and  had  done  all 
in  his  power  for  the  injured  man.  But  in  vain,  for  in 
a  short  time  he  had  breathed  his  last. 

Dan  uttered  not  a  word  when  the  tale  had  been  told. 
Tie  asked  no  questions,  neither  did  he  make  any  outcry. 
He  stood  like  one  stricken  dumb,  dry-eyed  and  motion- 
less, gazing  upon  that  quiet  form  lying  upon  the  bed. 
Gently  they  led  him  away,  and  tried  to  speak  to  him. 
He  did  not  heed  them.  A  weight  such  as  he  had  never 
known  before  pressed  upon  his  heart.    He  wished  to  be 


THE    VISION  23 

alone,  somewhere  in  the  woods,  out  there  where  no 
one  could  gaze  upon  him.  His  father  was  dead !  For 
him  there  was  no  consolation  from  the  words  of  the  Man 
of  Sorrows.  The  life  beyond  had  no  meaning  for  him. 
His  mother  had  taught  him  to  say  the  little  prayer, 
"  Now  I  lay  me  down  to  sleep,"  but  that  seemed  so  long 
ago,  and  he  had  not  repeated  it  after  her  death.  He  had 
seen  the  birds  and  animals  lying  dead,  but  had  thought 
nothing  about  it  then.  Now  his  father  was  just  like 
them,  would  never  look  at  him  again,  would  never 
speak  to  him  any  more. 

He  watched  in  a  dazed  manner  what  took  place  on 
the  two  following  days.  Neighbours  came,  spoke  to 
him,  stayed  awhile  and  then  departed.  The  day  of  the 
funeral  arrived.  He  stood  with  the  rest  at  the  grave- 
side. It  was  cold,  and  the  wind  laden  with  snow 
whistled  about  him.  He  heard  the  grey-headed,  white- 
bearded  clergyman  read  the  Burial  Service.  The  words 
of  hope  had  no  meaning  for  him.  An  awful  feeling  of 
desolation  filled  his  heart  as  he  watched  the  earth  thrown 
into  the  grave.  A  shiver  passed  through  his  body, 
caused  not  by  the  coldness  alone.  Several  came  to 
speak  to  him.  He  did  not  want  to  see  them.  He  turned 
and  fled  down  across  the  field  over  the  fence  to  the 
haunble  cabin  in  the  valley.  This  he  entered,  now  so 
quiet  and  desolate.  He  reached  the  bed — his  father's 
bed — and  throwing  himself  upon  it  gave  vent  to  his 
grief.  His  pent-up  feelings  at  last  found  an  outlet  and 
tears  coursed  down  his  tanned  cheeks,  moistening  the 
pillow  beneath  his  little  curly  head. 


CHAPTER  III 
(GLENDOW  RECTORY 

ARE  you  cold,  lad  ?  " 
.     "  ]STo,"  was  the  brief  reply. 

Parson  John,  Rector  of  Glendow,  glanced  down 
at  the  little  muffled  figure  at  his  side.  He  reached  over, 
tucked  in  the  robes  more  closely  about  their  feet,  and 
spoke  one  word  to  Midnight.  The  horse,  noble  animal 
that  she  was,  bounded  forward.  The  ice,  glassy  and 
•firm,  stretched  out  far  ahead.  It  was  a  raw,  midwinter 
day  and  the  wind  drifting  in  from  the  north-east  pre- 
saged a  storm.  But  the  magnificent  beast,  black  as  a 
raven's  wing,  did  not  mind  it.  With  head  low,  tail 
almost  touching  the  dash-board,  and  eyes  sparkling  with 
animation,  she  clipped  along  with  great  strides. 

The  parson  gave  a  half-audible  chuckle  as  he  settled 
back  in  the  seat  and  gripped  the  reins  more  firmly. 

"  What  will  Nellie  say,"  he  thought,  "  when  she  sees 
the  lad  ?  Won't  she  be  surprised !  She's  never  tired  of 
talking  about  that  rescue  on  the  river." 

Dan  thoroughly  enjoyed  the  drive  as  he  nestled  by 
the  parson's  side.  It  was  very  strange  to  be  speeding 
along  in  such  a  luxurious  manner,  with  a  horse  trav- 

24 


GLENDOW    RECTOKY  25 

elling  like  the  wind,  and  a  big  jolly  man  holding  the 
reins.  He  said  nothing,  but  kept  his  eye  fixed  upon 
Midnight,  his  admiration  steadily  increasing.  He 
would  like  to  own  a  horse  like  that,  and  down  in  his 
heart  he  determined  to  have  one  some  day — his  very 
own. 

"  What  do  you  think  of  Midnight,  lad  ?  "  asked  the 
parson,  noticing  Dan's  admiring  gaze. 
"  Great !  "  was  the  reply. 

"  "Wish  to  have  one  like  her,  eh  1  " 

"Y'bet." 

"  You  will  some  day,  boy ;  you  will.  But  get  a  good 
one  or  none  at  all,  and  here's  a  safe  rule : 

Round-hoof  d,  short-jointed,  fetlocks  shag  and  long, 
Broad  breast,  full  eye,  small  head  and  nostrils  ■wide, 
High  crest,  short  ears,  straight  legs  and  passing  strong. 
Thin  mane,  thick  tail,  broad  buttock,  tender  hide. 

ISTow  the  man  who  said  that,  knew  what  he  was  talking 
about." 

"  What's  his  name  ?  "  asked  Dan.  "  Does  he  live 
here  ?  " 

"  Ho,  ho !  "  and  the  parson's  hearty  laugh  rang  out 
over  the  snow.  "  '  Does  he  live  here  ? '  I'm  afraid  not. 
Very  few  in  Glendow  know  old  Will  Shakespeare, 
more's  the  pity." 

"  I  should  like  to  meet  him,  though,"  remarked  Dan. 
"  He  must  know  a  lot  about  horses." 

"  Ay,  ay,  lad,  he  knows  a  lot  about  most  things,  and 
you  shall  know  him  some  day,  Dan,  when  you  get  older. 


26  THE    FOURTH    WATCH 

But  here  we  are  right  at  home.  We've  made  great 
time." 

After  Midnight  had  "been  carefully  stahled  and  fed, 
Parson  John  led  his  little  charge  into  the  Rectory. 
Scarcely  had  they  crossed  the  threshold  into  a  brightly- 
lighted  room  ere  the  sound  of  a  sweet  voice  humming 
an  old  familiar  tune  fell  gently  upon  their  ears.  Then 
a  heavy  tapestry  curtain  was  drawn  aside,  and  a  slen- 
der girlish  form  stood  before  them.  Beholding  the  lad, 
she  gave  a  start  of  surprise,  while  her  face,  of  more  than 
ordinary  beauty,  flushed  with  pleasure. 

"  Ha,  ha,  ISTellie,"  laughed  her  father,  giving  her  an 
affectionate  kiss,  "  I  have  captured  your  young  hero  at 
last,  and  I'm  glad  you  recognize  him.  He's  to  live 
with  us,  to  be  your  honourable  bodyguard,  your  Fidus 
Achates,  in  fact." 

What  a  picture  this  venerable  man  presented  as  he 
stood  there.  Wrapped  in  a  great-coat,  with  fur  mittens 
in  his  hands ;  a  long  grey  beard  sweeping  his  breast ; 
hair  abundant  and  white,  crowning  a  face  of  singular 
strength  and  refinement,  he  seemed  the  very  embodiment 
of  health  and  hearty  cheer.  Xo  ascetic  this,  but  a 
man  in  whose  veins  flowed  the  fire  of  youth,  and  whose 
eyes  twinkled  with  quiet,  honest  laughter  as  they  looked 
into  his  daughter's  puzzled  face. 

"  I  don't  exactly  understand,"  Xellie  remarked, 
glancing  first  at  her  father  and  then  at  Dan. 

"  ]STo,  I  know  you  don't,  dear,  but  I'll  tell  you  all 
about  it  later.  It's  enough  now  to  know  that  I  found 
him,  and  we  are  to  give  him  a  home  here.     So  if  you'll 


GLEXDOW    EECTORY  27 

let  us  have  something  to  eat,  we'll  be  very  glad,  won't 
we,  laddie  ?  " 

Dan  stood  as  if  in  a  dream  during  this  conversation. 
His  eyes  remained  fixed  upon  Xellie's  face.  Could  it 
be  possible  that  this  was  the  woman  he  had  rescued, 
and  who  had  spoken  so  kindly  to  him  %  It  was  the  same, 
there  could  be  no  mistake,  only  now  she  seemed  more 
beautiful  than  ever.  He  felt  her  soft  hand  pressing 
his  rough,  brown  one,  and  heard  her  hearty  welcome. 
Words  would  not  come  to  his  lips.  He  was  like  a  dumb 
person.  But  his  eyes  noted  much,  especially  the  dining- 
room,  with  the  table  spread,  the  white  cloth  and  wonder- 
ful dishes.  He  had  never  seen  anything  like  them 
before. 

And  good  reason  was  there  for  Dan's  wonder. 
Others  too  would  have  looked  with  admiration  upon 
that  scene  had  they  been  present.  Everything  in  the 
room  bespoke  Nellie's  gentle  care,  from  the  spotless 
table-linen  to  the  well-polished,  old-fashioned  sideboard, 
a  relic  of  the  stirring  Loyalist  days.  Several  portraits 
of  distinguished  divines  adorned  the  walls,  while  here 
and  there  nature  scenes,  done  in  water-colours,  by 
whose  hand  it  was  easy  to  guess,  were  artistically 
arranged. 

Nellie's  devotion  to  her  father  was  beautiful  to  be- 
hold. Her  eyes  sparkled  with  delight  as  he  related  sev- 
eral amusing  incidents  of  his  visit  to  a  sick  parishioner 
in  an  outlying  district. 

"  And  how  did  you  find  Mr.  Stickles  ? "  she  in- 
quired. 


28  THE    FOURTH    WATCH 

"  '  Simply  joggin',  parson,  simply  joggin,'  n  came  the 
reply,  at  which  the  fair  hostess  laughed  heartily. 

"And  I  suppose  Mrs.  Stickles  is  as  jolly  as  ever?" 

"  Oh,  yes.  She  is  just  the  same.  Poor  soul !  she  has 
her  hands  full  with  her  sick  husband,  and  a  houseful  of 
little  ones.  Yet  she  keeps  remarkably  bright  and  cheer- 
ful. She  was  much  concerned  about  my  welfare,  and 
while  she  sent  Sammy  to  look  after  Midnight  she  bustled 
around  to  make  me  as  comfortable  as  possible." 

"  *  Poor  dear  man,'  she  said,  '  ye  ain't  as  young  as 
ye  used  to  be,  an'  I  often  say  to  John  that  the  work's 
tellin'  on  ye.  Ye've  got  too  large  a  circus,  parson,  too 
large  a  circus.'  " 

"  Dear  soul,"  laughed  Nellie.  "  There  isn't  a  more 
real  person  in  Glendow  than  Mrs.  Stickles.  She's  a 
friend  to  everyone,  and  knows  everybody's  business  for 
miles  around." 

"  Indeed,  she  does,"  replied  her  father.  "  It  was  she 
who  told  me  about  our  young  friend  here,  and  I  started 
off  post-haste  to  capture  him.  So  we  have  to  thank  Mrs. 
Stickles  for  it  all." 

Supper  ended,  Parson  John  and  Dan  went  into  the 
study,  while  Nellie  cleared  away  the  dishes.  A  bright 
fire  burned  in  the  large  fire-place,  giving  the  room  a 
most  genial  appearance.  The  parson  brought  down  a 
long  church-warden  pipe,  filled  and  lighted  it.  Next 
he  drew  up  a  comfortable  chair  and  proceeded  to  read 
his  mail  which  had  arrived  during  his  absence.  Dan, 
in  the  meantime,  had  taken  up  his  position  in  a  cosy- 
corner  nearby.    A  large  picture-book  had  been  given  to 


GLENDOW    RECTORY  29 

him,  and  eagerly  his  eyes  wandered  over  the  wonderful 
things  he  found  therein.  After  a  while  he  closed  the 
book  and  leaned  back  against  the  cushions.  How  com- 
fortable it  was.  What  luxury!  He  had  never  ex- 
perienced anything  like  it  in  his  life.  It  seemed  like 
a  dream.  He  watched  Parson  John  for  a  time  as  he 
read  his  letters  and  papers.  Then  he  looked  about  the 
room,  admiring  the  many  things  he  there  beheld. 
Gradually  his  eyes  closed.  He  forgot  his  surroundings, 
and  was  soon  fast  asleep,  far  away  in  dreamland. 

When  Nellie  had  finished  with  the  dishes,  she  camo 
into  the  study,  and,  seeing  Dan,  she  paused  to  look  upon 
him.  Then  she  crossed  to  where  her  father  was  sitting, 
and  touched  him  gently  on  the  shoulder  and  pointed  to 
the  sleeping  lad.  Together  they  watched  him  and  in 
their  hearts  there  welled  up  a  deep  love  for  the  orphan 
boy. 

"  Poor  little  fellow,"  remarked  Nellie,  in  a  low  voice, 
taking  a  seat  by  her  father's  side.  "  I  am  so  glad  he  is 
with  us  to-night.     He  seemed  to  be  tired  out." 

"  Yes,  dear,"  her  father  replied,  laying  down  the 
paper.  "  We  are  fortunate  in  getting  him.  I  wanted  a 
boy  for  some  time.  I  understand  he  has  a  fine  char- 
acter." 

"  And  you  said  that  Mrs.  Stickles  told  you  about 
him?" 

"  Yes.  And  what  she  said  was  quite  true.  I  found 
Dan  living  with  the  Tragen  family.  Mr.  Tragen  has 
seven  children  of  his  own,  and  could  not  very  well  keep 
another  for  any  length  of  time.    He  told  me  that  the  day 


30  THE    FOURTH    WATCH 

of  the  funeral  he  went  to  the  Flitter  house,  and  found 
Dan  all  alone,  lying  on  his  father's  bed,  weeping  as  if 
his  heart  would  break.  With  difficulty  he  had  per- 
suaded him  to  leave  and  go  with  hira.  That  was  over  a 
week  ago  and  Dan  has  been  with  him  ever  since.  Mrs. 
Tragen,  worthy  woman  that  she  is,  took  good  care  of 
him  and  treated  him  like  one  of  her  own.  Truly  the 
Lord  will  reward  her.  By  the  way,  she  told  me  an 
interesting  thing  about  the  boy." 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  questioned  Nellie. 

"  It  seems  he  has  never  been  at  school,  and  cannot 
read  or  write.  He  is  very  anxious  to  learn,  and  his 
father,  before  his  death,  was  giving  him  some  lessons. 
We  must  see  that  he  has  every  chance  to  learn  whilo 
with  us." 

"  But,  father,  there's  no  school  in  the  district  this 
winter,  a  most  unusual  thing." 

"  Why  not  teach  him  at  home,  dearie  ?  "  and  the  par- 
son looked  into  his  daughter's  face.  "  Why  not  have  a 
school  here  ?  We  can  give  him  a  start  anyway,  and  he 
will  not  be  too  far  behind  the  rest  when  next  the  public 
school  opens." 

"  Oh,  that  will  be  splendid ! "  exclaimed  Nellie, 
"  and  may  I  be  the  teacher  ?  I  always  wanted  to  do 
something  in  that  line,  and  may  we  begin  to-mor- 
row?" 

"  Any  time  you  like,  dearie,  and  may  God  bless  you, 
child,  for  your  interest  in  the  boy.  You  remind  me 
more  and  more  of  your  dear  mother." 

"  And  why  should  I  not  take  an  interest  in  him, 


GLENDOW    RECTORY  31 

father  ?  He  saved  my  life,  and,  though  I  can  never 
repay  him,  I  should  like  to  feel  that  I  am  doing  some- 
thing. Yon  know  I  read  to  !N"ora  whenever  I  can,  hut 
this  need  not  interfere  with  that.  And,  oh,  father, 
Stephen  was  here  this  afternoon,  and  he's  in  great 
trouble." 

"  What's  wrong,  dearie  ?  "  questioned  the  parson,  as 
Nellie  paused  and  a  deep  flush  suffused  her  face. 

"  The  Frenelle  homestead  is  to  he  sold." 

"  What !  do  I  understand  you  aright  ?  Peter  Cre- 
nelle's farm,  that  fine  property  which  he  left  free  of 
debt  when  he  died  ?  " 

"  Yes,  it's  only  too  true.  You  know  there  has  "been  a 
heavy  mortgage  on  it  for  several  years,  and  as  the  in- 
terest has  not  been  paid  for  some  time  the  mortgage  has 
been  foreclosed,  and  the  place  is  to  he  sold." 

"  Dear  me,  dear  me,"  and  the  parson  leaned  hack  in 
his  chair  and  closed  his  eyes,  as  he  always  did  when  in 
deep  thought.  "  It's  bad  management,  that's  what  it  is. 
Stephen  has  had  a  splendid  start,  and  through  careless- 
ness he  has  let  everything  go  to  ruin." 

"  Father,  don't  blame  Stephen  too  much.  He's  only 
young,  and  had  a  great  responsibility  placed  upon  his 
shoulders  after  his  father's  death." 

"  Blame  him !  Blame  him !  Why  should  I  blame  any- 
one ?  "  and  the  parson  placed  his  hand  to  his  forehead. 
"  Stephen  is  as  dear  to  me  as  my  own  son — and  I  love 
him.  But,  oh,  it  is  hard  to  see  my  old  friend's  farm  go 
to  others.  I  have  talked  with  Stephen  time  and  time 
again.     But  he  has  not  taken  the  right  grip  of  life. 


32  THE    FOURTH    WATCH 

Poor  Mrs.  Frenelle,  her  heart  must  be  broken.     And 
Nora,  that  dear  invalid  girl,  how  hard  for  her." 

Nellie  made  no  reply  to  her  father's  words.  She  sat 
looking  into  the  fire.  Tears  were  in  her  eyes  and  her 
heart  was  heavy.  Everything  had  seemed  so  bright  but 
a  short  time  before,  and  now  this  dark  cloud  had  arisen. 
Oh,  if  Stephen  would  only  bestir  himself.  They  had 
known  each  other  from  childhood.  He  had  always  been 
her  hero.  As  a  child  her  day-dreams  and  fancies  were 
-woven  about  him.  And  as  years  advanced  their  love  for 
each  other  had  increased.  It  was  the  natural  blending 
of  two  souls  which  had  gradually  and  silently  grown 
together  in  the  bright  sunshine  of  happy  youth. 

A  knock  upon  the  door  at  the  side  of  the  house  startled 
her.  At  once  she  arose  to  ascertain  its  meaning,  and 
shortly  returned. 

"  Father,"  she  said,  "  Billy  Fletcher  is  very  sick,  and 
^wishes  to  see  you." 

"  Who  brought  word,  my  dear  ?  " 
"  Hugh  Peters.     He  called  to  see  the  old  man  as  ho 
jvas  coming  down  the  road,  and  found  him  quite  ill" 

The  effect  of  this  message  was  quite  magical.  No 
longer  was  Parson  John  the  quiet  fireside  reader,  but 
the  true  sympathetic  pastor.  He  laid  aside  his  pipe, 
and  at  once  arose  from  his  comfortable  chair.  An  ex- 
pression of  loving  concern  overspread  Nellie's  face  as 
she  assisted  him  on  with  his  storm  coat,  and  procured 
his  cap,  mittens  and  overshoes.  But  no  word  of  re- 
monstrance came  from  her  lips,  no  urging  him  to  put  off 
his  visit  until  the  morning.    From  a  child  she  had  been 


GLENDOW    RECTORY  33 

accustomed  to  these  sudden  calls  to  the  side  of  departing 
parishioners,  to  read  the  Word  of  life  and  at  times  to 
administer  the  Holy  Communion. 

Her  father's  step  was  slow  as  of  one  much  wearied, 
though  his  voice  was  cheery  and  strong  as  he  bade  his 
daughter  good-bye,  seized  the  small  lantern  she  had 
lighted  for  him,  and  stepped  out  into  the  cold  ni&'ht  on 
his  mission  of  love. 


CHAPTER  IV 
THE  WARDER  OF  THE  NIGHT 

AETER  her  father's  departure,  Nellie  sat  before 
L  the  fire  engaged  upon  some  needlework.  Occa- 
sionally her  hands  rested  in  her  lap,  while  she 
gazed  thoughtfully  into  the  bright  blaze.  The  soft  light 
from  the  shaded  lamp  fell  athwart  her  wealth  of  dark- 
brown  hair  and  fair  face.  Her  long  lashes  drooped  as 
she  leaned  back  in  an  easy-chair,  and  let  her  mind 
wander  to  the  days  when  she  and  Stephen  played 
together  as  happy  children.  What  bright  dreams  were 
theirs,  and  how  many  fairy  palaces  they  erected  in  the 
far  unknown  future. 

A  movement  in  the  cosy-corner  roused  her  from  her 
reverie.  She  glanced  quickly  in  that  direction  and  saw 
Dan  sitting  bolt  upright,  gazing  intently  upon  her. 
Nellie  smiled  as  she  saw  his  look  of  wonder  mingled 
with  embarrassment. 

"  Have  you  had  a  nice  sleep  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Guess  so,"  came  the  slow  reply.  "  I  dreamed  that 
you  and  my  father  were  right  by  my  side,  but  wThen  I 
woke  he  was  gone  and  only  you  are  with  me." 

"  I  hope  you  will  like  it  here,"  Nellie  remarked, 
hardly  knowing  what  to  say.  "  We  want  to  make  you 
happy,  and  love  you  just  like  our  own  little  boy." 

34. 


THE    WARDER    OF    THE    NIGHT        35 

"  I'm  almost  a  man  now,"  and  Dan  straightened  up 
his  shoulders  and  proudly  threw  back  his  head.  "  I 
can  huut  and  work.  See  how  strong  I  am,"  and  he 
placed  his  right  hand  upon  the  muscle  of  his  doubled-up 
left  arm. 

"  Some  day  you  will  be  as  big  as  my  father,  won't 
you  ?  "  replied  Nellie,  much  amused  at  the  sturdy  lad. 

"  "Was  that  your  father  who  brought  me  here  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  And  what's  his  name  ?  " 

"  ]\Ir.  Westrnore.  But  most  people  call  him  '  Parson 
John.'  You'll  call  him  that,  too,  won't  you  ?  He  likes 
it  better." 

"  Yes ;  if  you  want  me  to,  I  will.  But,  say,  what's 
your  name  ?  " 

"  Oh,  mine's  just  Nellie,  Nellie  Westrnore.  Not 
very  pretty,  is  it  \  " 

"  I  think  it  is.  Do  you  know  that  was  my  mother's 
name — Nellie,  I  mean,  not  the  other  one." 

"  And  do  you  remember  your  mother,  Dan  ?  " 

"  Only  a  little.  She  was  good  and  pretty,  just  like 
you." 

"  Tell  me  about  her,  will  you  ?    I  should  like  to  hear." 

And  there  in  the  quietness  of  that  room  Dan's  tongue 
was  unloosed,  and  in  his  own  simple  way  he  told  about 
his  mother,  her  death,  and  how  he  and  his  father  had 
lived  together  in  the  little  log  shanty.  Half  an  hour 
passed  in  this  quiet  talk,  and  when  at  length  Dan  ceased 
Nellie  glanced  at  the  clock. 

"  Why,  I  didn't  think  it  was  so  late !    It  is  time  you 


36  THE    FOURTH    WATCH 

were  in  bed.  You  must  be  tired.  Come,  I  will  show 
you  where  you  are  to  sleep  to-night,  and  to-morrow  we 
will  fix  up  a  room  for  your  very  own." 

Going  to  the  kitchen  Nellie  lighted  a  small  lamp,  and 
with  this  in  her  hand  she  and  Dan  went  up  the  small 
winding  stairway. 

"  This  is  the  place,"  and  she  opened  a  door  leading 
to  a  room  at  the  north  of  the  house.  "  The  pipe  from 
the  hall  stove  comes  up  there,  so  it's  always  quite 
warm.    I  do  hope  you  will  sleep  well." 

She  went  to  the  window  to  draw  down  the  blind  and 
as  she  did  so  a  light  fell  upon  her  eyes  which  gave  her  a 
distinct  start.  It  was  not  from  the  moon,  for  the  night 
was  dark,  but  from  a  burning  building,  a  short  distance 
up  the  road.  The  flames  were  leaping  and  curling 
through  the  roof,  sending  up  blazing  cinders  in  every 
direction. 

Nellie's  heart  almost  stopped  beating  as  she  gazed 
upon  the  scene.  It  was  Billy  Fletcher's  house!  and 
what  of  her  father  ?  Was  he  amidst  those  flames,  or 
had  he  escaped  ? 

"  Dan,  Dan !  "  she  cried,  turning  to  the  lad,  "  Come, 
quick !  I'm  afraid  that  something  terrible  has  hap- 
pened !  Get  on  your  coat  and  cap  as  quickly  as  possible 
and  let's  make  haste !  " 

It  did  not  take  them  long  to  throw  on  their  wraps, 
and  to  hurry  forth  into  the  night. 

To  Nellie  the  distance  seemed  never-ending.  Would 
they  ever  reach  the  house  ?  How  the  road  had  length- 
ened! and  her  breath  came  hard  and  fast  as  she  stag* 


THE    WARDER    OP    THE    NIGHT       37* 

gered  forward,  trying  to  keep  pace  with  the  more  hardy 
lad.  The  light  of  the  fire  illumined  the  road  for  some 
distance  around,  and  guided  their  steps.  Drawing  near 
they  could  discover  no  one  about  the  place.  What  did 
it  all  mean  ?  Here  Nellie  paused  and  with  wildly 
beating  heart  looked  at  the  seething  mass  before  her, 
and  listened  to  the  roar  of  the  flames  as  they  sent  up 
their  wild  flamboyant  tongues  into  the  air.  Had  her 
father  been  entrapped  in  that  terrible  furnace  ?  She 
glanced  towards  a  barn  on  her  right  and  as  she  did  so 
her  eyes  fell  upon  a  sight  never  to  be  forgotten.  Some- 
one was  there,  kneeling  in  the  snow  with  bent  head 
gazing  intently  upon  some  object  before  him.  It  was 
her  father !  and  with  a  cry  of  joy  Nellie  rushed  for- 
ward. She  found  he  was  kneeling  by  Billy  Fletcher's 
side,  supporting  his  head,  and  carefully  wrapping 
around  him  his  own  great-coat.  He  looked  up  and  an 
expression  of  relief  came  into  his  face  as  he  saw  his 
daughter  standing  there. 

"  I  am  so  glad  you  have  come,"  he  exclaimed.  "  Poor 
Billy's  in  a  bad  way.  We  need  help.  He  must  be 
taken  to  some  house.  I  wish  you  would  hurry  up  the 
road  for  assistance.  Dan  will  go  with  you.  Get  his 
nephew  Tom  as  quickly  as  possible." 

Waiting  to  hear  no  more,  Nellie,  fatigued  though 
she  was,  started  at  once  for  assistance,  Dan  following 
close  behind.  They  had  gone  only  a  short  distance, 
however,  when  they  met  Tom  himself  running  along 
the  road. 

"  What's  wrong  ?  "  he  gasped. 


38  THE    FOURTH    WATCH 

"Don't  you  see?"  Nellie  replied.  "The  house  is 
burning  down." 

"And  Uncle  Billy;  is  he  safe?" 

"  Yes,  he's  safe,  but  almost  dead." 

"  And  the  box,  what  about  it  ?  " 

"What  box?" 

"  The  money  box ;  the  iron  one,  where  he  keeps  his 
papers  and  gold." 

"  I  know  nothing  about  the  box,"  replied  Nellie, 
while  a  feeling  of  great  repugnance  welled  up  within 
her  at  the  heartlessness  of  the  man.  lie  cared  little  for 
his  uncle,  the  feeble  old  body,  but  only  for  what  he 
possessed. 

By  this  time  they  had  reached  the  place  where  the 
sick  man  was  lying. 

"  Is  he  living  ?  "  shouted  his  nephew. 

"  Yes,"  replied  the  parson,  "  though  I  doubt  if  ho 
can  last  long.  We  must  get  him  away  to  your  house 
as  soon  as  possible." 

"  But  the  box,  Parson ;  did  you  save  it  ?  "  questioned 
Tom. 

"  No,  I  never  thought  about  it,  and,  besides,  I  did  not 
know  where  it  was." 

At  this  Billy  opened  his  faded  eyes,  and  fixed 
them  upon  his  nephew's  face.  He  tried  to  speak, 
but  his  voice  was  thick  and  his  words  were  unintel- 
ligible. 

"Where's  the  box?"  shouted  Tom. 

Again  the  old  man  endeavoured  to  say  something. 


THE    WARDER    OP    THE    NIGHT        39 

Failing  in  this  he  made  an  effort  to  rise.  The  struggle 
was  too  much  for  him,  and  with  a  cry  he  sank  back 
upon  the  snow,  dead. 

By  this  time  several  neighbours  had  arrived,  and 
stood  near  with  a  look  of  awe  upon  their  rugged  faces. 
Nellie  drew  her  father  aside,  knowing  full  well  that 
his  care  was  needed  no  longer. 

"  Come,"  she  said,  "  we  had  better  go  home, 
These  men  will  do  the  rest.  You  have  done  your 
part." 

He  followed  her  along  the  little  path  leading  to  the 
main  road.  Reaching  this  she  took  him  by  the  arm 
and  supported  his  steps,  which  were  now  over-feeble. 
Slowly  and  feelingly,  he  told  the  story  of  the  night. 
He  had  found  the  old  man  in  a  bad  condition,  and  cold 
from  the  lack  of  a  good  fire.  Filling  the  stove  with  a 
liberal  supply  of  wood,  and  making  Billy  as  comfort- 
able as  the  circumstances  would  permit,  he  had  sat 
down  to  watch  his  charge.  Ere  long  the  sick  man  grew 
much  worse.  Then  the  chimney  had  caught  fire.  The 
bricks  must  have  been  loose  somewhere,  which  allowed 
the  flames  to  pour  through  into  the  dry  woodwork  over- 
head, which  was  soon  converted  into  a  blazing  mass. 
Seeing  that  nothing  could  be  done  to  save  the  building 
Hr.  Westmore  was  forced  to  carry  Billy,  sick  though  he 
was,  out  of  the  house.  He  tried  to  reach  the  barn,  but 
his  strength  failed,  so  he  was  forced  to  lay  his  burden 
upon  the  snow,  and  wrap  his  great-coat  around  the 
helpless  man. 

"  Poor  Billy !  poor  Billy ! "  said  the  parson  in  con- 


40  THE    FOURTH    WATCH 

elusion.  "  He  was  careless  about  higher  things.  I  hope 
the  good  Lord  will  not  judge  him  too  harshly." 

"  But  he  was  not  always  like  that,  father,"  Nellie 
remarked. 

"  No,  no,  thank  God.  He  had  a  happy  home  when  I 
first  came  to  this  parish,  long  before  you  were  born.  I 
have  often  told  you  about  the  sweet,  God-fearing  wife 
he  had  then.  But  after  she  was  laid  to  rest  a  great 
change  took  place  in  Billy's  life.  He  became  very  rebel- 
lious and  never  darkened  the  church  door.  He  ac- 
quired a  great  passion  for  money,  and  grew  to  be  most 
miserly.  As  the  years  passed  his  harshness  increased. 
He  waxed  sullen  and  disagreeable.  His  neighbours 
shunned  him  and  he  looked  upon  them  all  with  a  sus- 
picious eye.  His  money  he  never  placed  in  a  bank,  but 
kept  it  in  his  house  in  gold  coin,  in  a  strong,  iron  box, 
so  I  have  been  told,  and  would  count  it  over  and  over 
again  with  feverish  delight." 

"  But,  father,"  remonstrated  Nellie,  "  there  must 
have  been  something  good  in  poor  old  Billy.  You  know 
how  fond  he  was  of  Tony  Stickles." 

"  True,  very  true,  dear.  I  have  often  wondered 
about  the  affection  between  the  two.  No  one  else  could 
live  with  the  old  man,  except  Tony,  and  he  served  him 
like  a  faithful  dog.  It  is  generally  believed  that  Billy 
confided  many  things  to  Tony.  He  is  a  peculiar  lad, 
and  people  have  tried  in  vain  to  find  out  what  he  knew. 
He  will  certainly  feel  badly  when  he  comes  out  of  the 
woods,  where  he  is  now  working,  and  hears  about  Billy's 
death.     But  here  we  are  at  home.     Oh  dear,  the  jour- 


THE    WARDER    OP    THE    NIGHT       41 

ney  has   greatly   tired   me,"    and   the   parson   panted 
heavily  as  he  entered  the  house. 

During  the  homeward  walk  Dan  trudged  along 
close  by  Nellie's  side,  busy  with  his  own  thoughts. 
He  longed  for  something  to  happen  that  he  might 
show  her  what  a  man  he  was.  If  a  robber  or  a  wolf, 
or  some  frightful  monster,  would  spring  out  from  the 
roadside,  he  would  meet  it  single-handed,  kill  or  drive 
it  away.  Then  to  behold  the  look  of  gratitude  and  ad- 
miration upon  the  woman's  face  as  she  looked  at  him, 
what  bliss  that  would  be !  Little  did  the  father  and 
daughter  realize,  as  they  slowly  walked  and  conversed, 
what  thoughts  and  feelings  were  thrilling  the  little 
lad  by  their  side,  feelings  which  in  all  ages  have  elec- 
trified clods  of  humanity  into  heroes,  and  illuminated 
life's  dull  commonplaces  with  the  golden  romance  of 
chivalry. 


CHAPTER  V 
THE  BEEATH  OF  SLANDER 

WHEN  a  man  dies  lie  kicks  the  dust."  Thus 
pithily  wrote  Henry  Thoreau,  the  quaint 
philosopher,  in  his  little  shack  by  the  beauti- 
ful Walden  pool.  The  truth  of  this  saying  was  cer- 
tainly verified  in  old  Billy  Fletcher's  death,  and  the 
people  of  Glendow  were  destined  to  see  the  dust  stirred 
by  his  departure,  rise  in  a  dense  cloud  and  centre  around 
the  venerable  parson  of  Glendow. 

The  day  after  the  fire  was  clear  and  fine.  Not  a 
breath  of  wind  stirred  the  crisp  air,  and  the  sun-kissed 
snow  lying  smooth  and  white  over  all  the  land  sparkled 
like  millions  of  diamonds. 

Near  the  window  in  her  little  cottage,  not  far  from 
the  Rectory,  sat  Mrs.  Larkins,  busily  knitting.  She 
was  a  woman  of  superior  qualities  and  had  seen  better 
days.  Her  toil-worn  hands  and  care-marked  face  could 
not  disguise  the  gentle,  refined  spirit  within,  which  ex- 
pressed itself  in  her  every  word  and  action.  Two  little 
graves  in  the  Churchyard,  lying  side  by  side,  and 
marked  by  a  small  cross  of  white  marble,  told  how  the 
silent  messenger  had  entered  that  home.  Often  the  hus- 
band and  vdfe  were  seen  standing  by  those  little  mounds, 
while  tears  coursed  down  their  rugged,  honest  cheeks. 

42 


THE    BREATH    OF    SLANDER  43 

"  2STo  father  could  have  been  kinder  than  Parson 
John,"  she  had  frequently  remarked  when  speaking 
about  their  loss,  and  no  sister  more  sympathetic  than 
dear  Nellie.  They  loved  our  little  ones  as  if  they  were 
their  very  own.  On  that  bright  summer  day  when  we 
laid  our  lambs  to  rest  the  parson's  voice  faltered  as  he 
read  the  Burial  Service,  and  tears  glistened  in  his 
eyes." 

Since  then  whatever  happened  of  joy  or  sorrow  at 
the  Beetory  was  of  the  deepest  interest  to  the  lonely 
two  over  the  way.  So  on  this  bright  afternoon  as  Mrs. 
Larkins  sat  by  the  window  her  thoughts  were  busy 
with  the  events  of  the  past  night. 

A  knock  upon  the  door  broke  her  reverie.  Opening 
it,  what  was  her  surprise  to  find  there  a  woman,  with 
an  old-fashioned  shawl  about  her  shoulders,  and  a 
bright,  jolly  face  peering  forth  from  a  capacious  grey 
hood. 

"  Mrs.  Stickles !  "  she  exclaimed.  "  Is  it  really  you  ? 
Why,  I  haven't  seen  you  for  such  a  long  time !  Come  in 
at  once,  and  lay  off  your  wraps,  while  I  make  you  a  cup 
of  tea,  for  you  must  be  chilled  through  and  through." 

"  Indeed,  I  am,"  Mrs.  Stickles  replied,  bustling  into 
the  room,  and  untying  her  hood.  "  Sammy  hed  to 
bring  the  old  mare  to  the  blacksmith  shop  to  git  shod, 
an'  John,  my  man,  sez  to  me,  '  Mother,'  sez  he,  '  ye  jist 
put  on  yer  duds,  an'  go  along,  too.  It'll  do  ye  a  world 
o'  good.'  I  hated  to  leave  John,  poor  soul,  he's  so 
poorly.  But  I  couldn't  resist  the  temptation,  an'  so  I 
come.     My,  that's  good  tea!"  she  ejaculated,  leaning 


44  THE    FOURTH    WATCH 

back  in  a  big,  cosy  chair.  "  Ain't  that  tumble  about 
old  Billy  Fletcher,  an'  him  sich  a  man !  " 

"  You've  heard  about  his  death,  then  ?  "  Mrs.  Larkins 
replied. 

"  Should  think  I  hed.  We  stopped  fer  a  minute  at 
the  store.  I  wanted  to  git  some  calicer  fer  the  girls, 
an'  while  I  was  thar  I  heerd  Tom  Flinders  an'  Pete 
Pobie  talkin'  about  it.  Why,  it  was  awful !  An'  to 
think  the  dear  old  parson  was  thar  all  alone!  When 
Pete  told  me  that  I  jist  held  up  me  hands  in  horror. 
'  Him  thar  with  that  dyin'  man !  '  sez  I.  '  Jist  think 
of  it!' 

"  '  I  guess  he  didn't  mind  it,'  sez  Si  Farrington,  who 
was  awaitm*  upon  me.  '  lie  likes  jobs  of  that  nater.' 
I  don't  know  what  in  the  world  he  meant.  I  s'pose 
ye've  heerd  all  about  it,  Mrs.  Larkins  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  came  the  somewhat  slow  reply.  "  I've  heard 
too  much." 

"  Ye  don't  say  so  now!  "  and  !Mrs.  Stickles  laid  down 
her  cup,  and  brought  forth  the  knitting  which  she  had 
with  her.     "  Anything  serious  ?  " 

"  Well,  you  can  judge  for  yourself.  John  helped  to 
carry  Billy  to  his  nephew's  house,  and  then  assisted 
the  others  in  putting  out  the  fire.  But  search  as  they 
might  they  could  not  find  the  box." 

"  Ye  don't  say  so !    Well,  I  declare." 

"  iSTo,  they  searched  every  portion  of  the  rubbish, 
ashes  and  all,  but  could  find  no  trace  of  it.  That's 
what's  troubling  me.  I  do  hope  they  will  find  it  for 
the  parson's  sake." 


THE    BREATH    OF    SLANDER  45 

"  Indeed !  Ye  surprise  me,"  and  Mrs.  Stickles  laid 
down  her  knitting.  "  Wot  the  parson  has  to  do  with 
that  box  is  more'n  I  kin  understand." 

"  No,  perhaps  you  don't.  But  you  see  after  the  men 
had  made  a  thorough  search  and  could  not  find  the 
box,  Tom  Fletcher  became  much  excited.  He  swore 
like  a  trooper,  declared  that  there  had  been  foul  play, 
and  hinted  that  the  parson  had  something  to  do  with  it 
You  know  that  the  Fletchers  hare  been  waiting  a  long 
time  for  Billy  to  die  in  order  to  get  his  gold,  property 
aEd » 

"  Yes,  yes,  I  know  Tom  Fletcher,"  broke  in  Mrs. 
Stickles.  "  Don't  I  know  'im,  an'  wot  a  mean  sneak 
he  is.  He's  suspicious  of  everybody,  an'  is  always  look- 
in'  fer  trouble.  An'  as  to  meanness,  why  he  hasn't  a 
heart  as  big  as  the  smallest  chicken.  Ye  could  take  a 
thousand  hearts  sich  as  his'n  an'  stick  'em  all  to  the 
wall  with  one  tiny  pin,  an'  then  they  wouldn't  be  half 
way  up  to  the  head.  Mean !  Why  didn't  he  once  put 
a  twenty-five  cent  piece  inter  the  kerlection  plate  by 
mistake,  an'  come  back  the  next  day  to  git  it,  an'  gave 
a  cent  in  its  place.  If  that  ain't  mean  I'd  like  to  know 
whar  ye'd  find  it,"  and  Mrs.  Stickles  sniffed  contemptu- 
ously as  her  needles  whirled  and  rattled  between  her 
nimble  fingers. 

"  Yes,"  Mrs.  Larkins  replied,  "  he  carries  his  mean- 
ness into  everything.  If  he  even  imagines  that  it  was 
the  parson's  fault  that  the  house  burned  down,  and  the 
will  was  destroyed,  his  anger  will  burn  like  fire.  He's 
very  revengeful,  too,  and  has  an  old  grudge  to  pay  back. 


46  TIIE    FOURTH    WATCH 

The  parson,  you  know,  was  the  means  of  making  him 
close  up  his  liquor  business  some  years  ago,  and  he  ha3 
been  waiting  ever  since  for  a  chance  to  hit  back.  I  tell 
you  this,  Mrs.  Stickles,  that  a  man  who  tries  to  do 
his  duty  is  bound  to  stir  up  opposition,  and  sometimes 
I  wonder  why  such  a  good  man  should  have  to  bear 
with  vindictive  enemies.  I  suppose  it's  for  some  pur- 
pose." 

"  Indeed  it  is,  Mrs.  Larkins.  Indeed  it  is,"  and  Mrs. 
Stickles'  needles  clicked  faster  than  ever."  It  was  only 
last  night  I  was  talkin'  to  my  man  John  about  this  very 
thing.  '  John,'  sez  I,  '  d'ye  remember  them  two  apple 
trees  in  the  orchard  down  by  the  fence  ? ' 

"  <  Well/  scz  he. 

"  '  An'  ye  recollect,'  sez  I,  '  how  one  was  loaded  down 
with  apples,  while  t'other  had  nuthin'  but  leaves  ? ' 

"  I  remember,"  sez  he. 

"  '  Well,  then,'  sez  I,  '  One  was  pelted  with  sticks 
an'  stones  all  summer,  an'  even  hed  some  of  its 
branches  broken,  while  t'other  was  not  teched.  Why 
was  that  ? 

"  '  Cause  it  hed  plenty  of  good  fruit  on  it,'  sez  he. 

"  '  Jist  so,'  sez  I.  '  Cause  it  hed  good  fruit.  An' 
that's  why  so  often  the  Lord's  good  people  cr  pelted  with 
vile  words  cause  they're  loaded  clown  with  good  deeds. 
If  they  never  did  nuthin'  the  devil  'ud  leave  'em  alone, 
but  jist  'cause  they  bear  good  fruit  is  the  reason  they're 
pelted.'  John  reckoned  I  was  right,  an'  he's  got  a  purty 
level  head,  if  I  do  say  it." 

u  I  only  hope  most  of  the  people  in  the  parish  will 


THE    BREATH    OF    SLANDER  4? 

stand  by  the  parson/'  replied  Mrs.  Larkins.  "  I  know 
some  will,  but  there  are  others  who  are  easily  led,  and 
Tom  Fletcher's  got  a  sharp  tongue." 

"  Why  wouldn't  they  stan'  by  'im,  Mrs.  Larkins  ? 
[Wot  hev  they  agin  'im  ?    Tell  me  that." 

Mrs.  Larkins  did  not  answer  for  a  while,  but  sat  gaz- 
ing out  of  the  window  as  if  she  did  not  hear  the  remark. 

"  I'm  thinking  of  the  parson's  son,  Philip,"  Mrs. 
Larkins  at  length  replied.  "  You  know  about  him,  of 
course  ?  " 

"  Sartin'  I  do.  I've  knowed  Phillie  sense  he  was 
a  baby,  an'  held  'im  in  me  arms,  too.  He  was  a  sweet 
lamb,  that's  wot  he  was.  I  understan'  he's  a  minin' 
ingineer  out  in  British  Columbia,  an'  doin'  fine  from 
the  last  account  I  heerd." 

"  That  was  some  time  ago,  Mrs.  Stickles,  was  it 
not  ? " 

"  I  believe  it  was  last  summer." 

"  Well,  it  seems  that  Philip's  in  trouble." 

"  Lan'  sake,  ye  don't  tell  me !  "  and  Mrs.  Stickles 
dropped  her  knitting  and  held  up  her  hands  in  horror. 
"  I  was  afeered  of  it,  Mrs.  Larkins.  It's  no  place  fer 
man  or  beast  out  thar.  Hev  the  In j  ins  hurt  'im,  or  the 
bears  clawed  'im  ?  I  understan'  they're  thick  as  flies  in 
summer." 

"  Oh,  no,  not  that,"  replied  Mrs.  Larkins.  "  You 
see  over  a  year  ago  Philip  invested  in  some  mining 
property  out  there,  and  the  prospects  looked  so  bright 
that  he  induced  his  father  to  join  him  in  the  enter- 
prise.    Though  the  parson's  salary  has  always  been 


48  THE    FOURTH    WATCH 

small,  with  strict  economy  he  had  laid  something  by 
each  year  for  his  old  age.  The  whole  of  this  he  gave 
to  Philip  to  be  invested.  For  a  time  things  looked 
very  bright  and  it  seemed  as  if  the  mines  would  pro- 
duce handsome  profits.  Unfortunately  several  claimants 
for  the  property  suddenly  turned  up,  with  the  result 
that  the  whole  affair  is  now  in  litigation.  The  case  is 
to  be  decided  in.  a  few  months,  and  should  it  go  against 
Philip  he  and  his  father  will  be  ruined.  Philip 
manages  the  matter,  and  the  parson  advances  what 
money  he  can  scrape  together.  Just  lately  the  whole 
affair  has  leaked  out,  and  some  people,  knowing  how 
the  parson  needs  money,  may  not  be  slow  to  impute 
to  him  things  of  which  he  is  entirely  ignorant." 

Mrs.  Stickles  was  about  to  speak,  when  a  jingle 
of  bells  sounded  outside.  "  Well,  I  declare !  "  she  ex- 
claimed, "  Sammy's  back  already !  "  With  that,  she 
rose  to  her  feet,  and  the  conversation  ended. 

The  church  was  crowded  the  day  old  Billy  was  buried, 
for  a  funeral  in  Glendow  was  always  an  important 
event.  Parson  John  was  clad  in  his  simple  robes  of 
office  and  read  the  Burial  Service  in  a  resonant,  well- 
modulated  voice.  Beholding  such  nobleness,  gentle- 
ness and  dignity  of  his  face  and  bearing,  only  the  most 
suspicious  could  associate  him  with  any  underhanded 
dealing.  What  connection  had  such  a  man  with  the 
base  things  of  life  ?  Mounting  the  pulpit,  he  gave 
a  short,  impressive  address.  There  was  no  sentiment, 
or  flowery  language.  He  glossed  nothing  over,  but  in 
a  few  words  sketched  Billy  Fletcher's  life,  and  pointed 


THE    BREATH    OF    SLANDER  49 

him  out  as  a  warning  to  those  who  become  careless  and 
indifferent  to  higher  things. 

"  The  parson  talked  mighty  plain  to-day,"  sal J  one 
man  in  a  low  voice  to  another,  as  they  wended  their 
way  to  the  graveyard.  "  He  didn't  put  poor  Billy 
in  Heaven,  that's  certain,  and  perhaps  he's  right,  I 
guess  he  hit  the  Fletchers  pretty  hard." 

"  Oh,  yes,"  the  other  replied.  "  The  parson  got  his 
say  from  the  pulpit,  but  the  Fletchers  will  have  theirs 
later." 

"  Why,  what  have  they  to  say  ?  " 

"  Oh,  you'll  see." 

"  About  that  box  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  Tut,  tut,  man.  Why,  they  haven't  a  leg  to  stand 
on  in  that  matter." 

"  But  they'll  make  legs.  Surely  you  know  Tom 
Fletcher  by  this  time.  He'll  stop  at  nothing  when 
once  he  gets  started,  and  though  he  may  not  be  able  to 
do  anything  definitely,  he'll  do  a  lot  of  talking,  and 
talk  tells  in  Glendow,  mark  my  word." 

And  this  proved  only  too  true.  Talk  did  begin  to  tell 
both  in  the  homes  and  at  the  stores.  One  man,  who 
had  met  the  parson  on  a  hurried  trip  to  the  city,  de-: 
clared  that  he  was  driving  like  mad,  and  hardly  spoke 
in  passing.  Another  related  that  when  Tom  Fletcher 
asked  Billy  about  the  box,  the  dying  man  pointed  to 
the  parson,  and  tried  to  speak.  Though  some  of  the 
more  sensible  scoffed  at  such  stories  as  ridiculous,  it 
made  little  difference,  for  they  passed  from  mouth  to 


50  THE    FOURTH    WATCH 

month,  increasing  in  interest  and  importance  according 
to  the  imagination  of  the  narrator. 

Although  this  slander  with  malignant  breath  was 
spreading  through  the  parish,  it  did  not  for  a  time 
reach  the  Rectory.  All  unconscious  of  impending 
trouble,  father  and  daughter  lived  their  quiet  life  happy 
in  each  other's  company. 


CHAPTER  VI 
THE  AUCTION 

THE  day  of  the  auction  of  the  Frenelle  homestead 
dawned  mild  and  clear. 

"  Don't  give  Dan  too  many  lessons,"  laughed 
Parson  John,  as  he  kissed  his  daughter  good-bye  and 
tucked  in  the  robes  about  his  feet. 

"  Xo  fear,  father,"  was  the  laughing  reply.  "  Per- 
haps he  will  turn  the  tables  upon  me.  He  knows  so 
much  about  the  woods,  wild  animals  and  birds  that  I 
like  to  learn  from  him." 

Midnight  strode  along  the  road,  glad  of  the  run  in 
the  fresh  air.  The  sleigh  bells  sent  forth  their  sweet 
music,  echoing  and  re-echoing  from  the  neighbouring 
hills  and  forest.  Everything  spoke  of  peace,  and  in 
Parson  John's  heart  dwelt  a  deeper  peace,  as  he  guided 
Midnight  through  the  gateway  and  reined  her  up  before 
the  Erenelle  door. 

Though  he  was  somewhat  early,  others  were  earlier 
still,  and  a  group  of  men,  hardy  sons  of  toil,  were  stand- 
ing near  the  house  engaged  in  earnest  conversation. 
They  had  come  a  long  distance,  for  an  auction  such  as 
this  was  a  most  unusual  occurrence  in  Glendow.  The 
Frenelle  homestead  had  belonged  to  the  family  from 
the  early  Loyalist  days,  descending  from  father  to  son 

51 


52  THE    FOURTH    WATCH 

for  several  generations.  Each  had  contributed  some- 
thing to  the  improvement  of  the  land,  hut  it  remained 
for  Peter  Frenelle,  Stephen's  father,  to  bring  it  under 
an  excellent  state  of  cultivation.  A  clear-headed,  hard- 
working man,  he  had  brought  his  scientific  knowledge, 
acquired  by  careful  study,  to  bear  upon  the  soil,  until 
Ips  broad,  rich  acres,  free  from  stone,  became  the  envy 
and  admiration  of  the  parish. 

One  quiet  evening  he  was  strolling  around  the  farm 
with  Parson  John,  his  firm  and  faithful  counsellor 
from  childhood.  Looking  across  the  fields  of  waving 
grain,  and  down  upon  the  long  straight  rows  of  corn, 
standing  golden  in  the  setting  sun,  he  paused  in  his 
walk,  and  remained  for  some  time  in  deep  thought. 
"  John,"  he  at  length  remarked,  placing  his  hand 
affectionately  upon  his  companion's  shoulder,  "  the 
Lord  has  been  very  good  to  me  all  of  these  years.  He 
has  blessed  me  in  house  and  field ;  He  has  given  me 
health  and  strength,  and  now  in  my  latter  days  peace 
and  light  at  eventide." 

His  companion  was  not  surprised  at  these  words,  for 
often  before  had  Mr.  Frenelle  talked  in  this  manner. 
But  early  the  next  morning  when  he  was  summoned 
to  his  friend's  bedside,  to  receive  his  final  message,  and 
to  hold  the  hand  outstretched  to  him  till  it  was  still  and 
cold,  the  solemn  utterance  of  the  previous  evening  came 
forcibly  to  his  mind. 

For  several  years  after  her  husband's  sudden  death, 
Mrs.  Frenelle  managed  the  farm  and  exhibited  re- 
markable skill  in  directing  the  various  hired  labourers. 


THE    AUCTION  53 

But  as  Stephen,  her  only  son,  advanced  to  manhood  she 
relinquished  the  responsibility  and  devoted  her  time 
almost  entirely  to  her  household  affairs.  This  change 
was  so  gradual  as  to  be  almost  imperceptible.  Stephen 
(disliked  the  drudgery  of  farm  life  and  left  the  work  to 
the  hired  men.  So  long  as  he  could  draw  upon  his 
father's  careful  savings  to  pay  the  wages  and  supply 
his  own  needs,  he  did  not  worry.  The  neighbours  shook 
their  heads  and  prophesied  trouble  as  they  saw  the  land 
producing  less  each  year,  and  its  acres,  formerly  rich 
with  grain,  covered  with  bushes.  Parson  John  reasoned 
and  remonstrated,  though  all  in  vain.  Stephen  always 
promised  to  do  better,  but  in  the  end  continued  the  same 
as  before.  At  last  the  awakening  cume,  sudden  and 
terrible.  The  bank  account  had  been  overdrawn  to  a 
considerable  extent,  and  payment  was  demanded.  The 
only  thing  to  do  was  to  mortgage  the  farm,  and  with  a 
heavy  heart  Mrs.  Frenelle  signed  the  pledge  of  death 
to  the  dear  homestead.  For  a  time  Stephen  tried  to 
settle  down  to  steady  work,  but  the  old  habit  of  care- 
lessness was  too  strong  upon  him,  and  ere  long  he 
drifted  back  to  his  former  ways.  The  interest  on  the 
mortgage  remained  unpaid.  Foreclosure  was  the  in- 
evitable result,  and  the  farm  was  accordingly  adver- 
tised for  sale. 

At  last  the  day  of  doom  had  arrived. 

Parson  John  found  Mrs.  Frenelle  in  the  cosy  sitting- 
room  with  her  invalid  daughter,  ISTora.  The  latter  was 
endeavouring  to  comfort  her  mother.  The  girl's  face, 
although  worn  with  care  and  suffering,  was  sweet  to 


54  THE    FOURTH    WATCH 

look  upon.  She  was  not  what  one  would  call  pretty, 
but  it  was  impossible  to  be  long  in  her  presence  without 
feeling  the  influence  of  her  strong  buoyant  disposition. 
The  angel  of  pain  had  purged  away  much  of  the  dross 
of  her  nature,  leaving  the  pure  gold  undimmed.  She 
inherited,  too,  much  of  her  fathers  strength  of  char- 
acter which  seemed  to  be  lacking  in  her  brother. 

"  "What  are  we  to  do  ?  "  sobbed  poor  Mrs.  Frenelle, 
as  the  parson  entered  the  room.  "  We  will  be  driven 
from  our  dear  old  home,  where  we  have  spent  so  many 
happy  years !     We  will  be  penniless !  " 

"  Hush,  mother  dear,"  remonstrated  her  daughter. 
"  Don't  get  so  discouraged.  The  place  may  bring 
more  than  will  cover  the  mortgage.  We  will  have  that 
to  start  with  again,  and  in  a  few  years  we  may  be  able 
to  pay  everything  off.  Stephen  may  settle  down  to 
hard,  steady  work  and  all  will  be  well." 

"  Xora  is  right,"  replied  the  parson.  "  The  pur- 
chaser, whoever  he  is,  will  no  doubt  let  you  remain 
here,  and  give  you  a  fair  chance  to  redeem  the  place. 
Our  Glendow  people,  you  know,  have  big  hearts." 

"  Oh,  I  wish  I  could  see  it  in  that  light,"  and  Mrs. 
Frenelle  glanced  at  the  clergyman  through  her  tears. 
"  It  is  Mr.  Farrington  I  fear.  His  mind  is  set  upon 
having  this  place.  He  has  looked  upon  it  with  greedy 
eyes  for  a  number  of  years.  He  has  only  a  little  land 
in  connection  with  his  store,  and  his  wife  is  always 
complaining  that  they  have  not  enough  room.  She  has 
said  on  several  occasions  that  they  would  own  this  farm 
some  day.     Then,  you  see,  Farrington  is  a  candidate 


THE    AUCTION  55 

for  the  next  Councillor  election.  He  has  large  ambi- 
tions, and  hopes  eventually  to  run  for  the  Local  House. 
He  thinks  a  place  such  as  this  with  its  fine,  olcl-f  ashioned 
house  will  give  him  a  certain  standing  which  he  now 
lacks.  He  wants  to  pose  as  a  country  gentleman,  and 
his  wife  wishes  to  have  the  house  in  which  to  entertain 
her  distinguished  guests,  who,  as  she  imagines,  will 
visit  them.  Oh,  to  think  of  Airs.  Farrington  living 
here !  "  and  the  poor  woman  buried  her  face  in  her 
hands. 

"  But  perhaps  someone  else  will  outbid  him,"  sug- 
gested Mr.  TYestmore.     "  I  would  not  lose  heart  yet." 

"  There  is  no  one  in  Glendow  able  to  bid  successfully 
against  Air.  Farrington,"  Xora  replied.  "  "We  have 
learned,  however,  that  Air.  Turpin,  a  real  estate  man, 
arrived  from  the  city  last  night.  He  wishes  to  buy  the 
place  merely  as  a  speculation,  hoping  to  turn  it  over  to- 
some  rich  people  who  wish  to  come  to  Canada  to  settle. 
But  there  is  the  bell !  "  and  she  half-started  from  her 
invalid's  chair,  but  sank  back  with  a  little  cry  at  the 
pain  caused  by  the  sudden  movement. 

As  the  clay  was  mild  the  auction  took  place  in  the 
open  where  the  auctioneer,  surrounded  by  some  two 
dozen  men,  was  mounted  on  a  large  box.  At  first  the 
bidding  was  general  and  brisk.  Gradually,  however,  it 
dwindled  down  to  three  or  four,  and  finally  to  Far- 
rington and  Turpin,  the  real  estate  man.  The  former 
was  standing  a  little  apart  from  the  rest,  with  his  eyes- 
intent  upon  the  auctioneer,  and  unable  to  repress  the 
eagerness  which  shone  in  his  face.     As  the  bidding 


56  THE    FOURTH    WATCH 

advanced  and  drew  near  the  three  thousand  dollar 
mark,  Turpin  showed  signs  of  weakening,  while  his 
bids  came  slower  and  slower.  Farrington,  noticing  this, 
could  not  control  his  pleasure,  and  when  he  at  length 
offered  the  round  sum  of  three  thousand  dollars  Turpin 
gave  up  the  struggle  and,  moving  back  a  little,  perched 
himself  upon  a  barrel,  and  seemed  to  take  no  interest 
in  the  affair. 

A  triumphant  light  gleamed  in  Farrington's  eyes 
as  he  observed  his  vanquished  opponent.  He  glanced 
towards  the  house,  and,  seeing  Mrs.  Frenelle  standing 
in  the  doorway,  his  lips  parted  in  a  cruel  smile.  It  wTas 
that  smile  more  than  anything  else  which  revealed  the 
real  nature  of  the  man. 

The  breathless  silence  which  for  a  time  ensued  at 
this  crisis  was  broken  by  the  harsh  cry  of  the  auc- 
tioneer : 

"  Three  thousand  dollars !  "  he  called.  "  Going  at 
three  thousand  dollars !  Any  advance  on  three  thou- 
sand dollars.  Going  at  three  thousand  dollars.  Once 
— twice — third — and — " 

"  Three  thousand  one  hundred,"  came  suddenly  from 
Parson  John. 

An  earthquake  shock  could  hardly  have  startled  the 
men  more  than  this  bid  from  such  an  unexpected 
quarter. 

Farrington's  face  reddened,  and  he  moved  a  step 
nearer  to  be  sure  that  he  had  not  been  mistaken. 

"  Did  I  hear  aright  ?  "  he  gasped.  "  Did  the  parson 
add  one  hundred  to  my  bid  ?  " 


THE    AUCTION  57 

"  Three  thousand  one  hundred  dollars  from  Parson 
Westmore,"  shouted  the  auctioneer.  "  Any  advance 
on  three  thousand  one  hundred  dollars  ?  " 

"  Another  hundred,  then,  damn  it,"  and  Farrington 
thrust  his  hands  deeper  into  his  pockets,  while  his  eyes 
gleamed  with  an  angry  light. 

"  Three  thousand  five  hundred,"  came  the  quiet 
response. 

Silence  followed  this  last  bid,  which  plainly  proved 
that  Farrington,  too,  was  weakening.  He  looked  around 
as  if  uncertain  what  to  do,  and  his  eyes  rested  upon 
Mrs.  Frenelle.  In  her  eagerness  she  had  moved  from 
the  door,  and  was  standing  near  the  group  of  men  with 
her  eyes  fixed  full  upon  the  clergyman.  The  expres- 
sion upon  her  face  was  that  of  a  drowning  person,  who, 
when  all  hope  has  been  abandoned,  sees  a  rescuer  sud- 
denly at  hand.  It  was  this  look  more  than  the  half- 
suppressed  laugh  that  passed  among  the  men,  which 
caused  him  to  fling  another  one  hundred  dollars  at  the 
auctioneer. 

"  Four  thousand,"  again  came  strong  and  clear  from 
Parson  John  without  the  slightest  hesitation. 

The  auctioneer  waited  for  Farrington  to  increase  his 
bid.  The  men  almost  held  their  breath  in  the 
excitement  of  the  moment,  and  ]\Irs.  Frenelle  moved 
a  step  nearer  with  her  hands  firmly  clasped  before 
her. 

"  Four  thousand  dollars,"  the  auctioneer  spoke  slowly 
and  impressively  now.  "  Any — advance — on  four 
thousand  dollars  \     Going  at  four  thousand  dollars — 


68  THE    FOURTH    WATCH 

Once — twice — third — and last    call ,    and   sold 

to  Parson  Westmore  for  four  thousand  dollars." 

As  these  words  fell  from  the  speaker's  lips  a  deep 
sigh  broke  the  tense  feeling  of  the  little  company.  They 
had  been  stirred  more  than  was  their  wont  by  the 
scene  that  they  had  just  witnessed.  These  men  knew 
but  little  of  the  rise  and  fall  of  ancient  kingdoms,  the 
strife  of  modern  nations,  the  deeds  of  statesmen,  and 
the  affairs  of  the  financial  world.  And  yet  in  the  sale 
of  this  farm  in  an  obscure  country  place  the  secret 
springs  of  life,  even  though  on  a  small  scale,  were  laid 
bare.  The  pathos  of  a  happy  home  on  the  verge  of 
destruction,  with  a  loving  mother  and  an  invalid  child 
in  danger  of  being  cast  out  upon  the  cold  world,  and  to 
see  this  tragedy  so  narrowly  averted  through  one 
staunch  champion  successfully  beating  back  pride  and 
greed  as  represented  in  the  person  of  Silas  Farrington 
■ — truly  it  was  a  miniature  of  the  world's  history,  which 
may  be  found  in  every  town,  village  or  home. 

"  I  trust  you  understand  the  conditions  of  the  sale, 
sir,"  and  the  auctioneer  looked  curiously  at  the  clergy- 
man, who  was  standing  somewhat  by  himself.  "  One- 
third  of  the  amount  down,  and  the  balance  in  half- 
yearly  payments.  I  only  mention  this  in  case  you  may 
not  know  it." 

"  I  understand  perfectly  well,"  was  the  reply.  "  The 
whole  amount  shall  be  paid  at  once,  and  the  matter 
settled  without  delay." 

"  Guess  the  ministry  must  be  a  payin'  job,"  sneered 
Farrington,  "  when  a  poor  country  parson  kin  fork 


THE    AUCTION  59. 

out  four  thousand  dollars  at  one  slap.  I  see  now  why 
ye're  alius  dunnin'  us  fer  money.  Mebbe  ye've  got  a 
hot  sermon  all  ready  on  the  subject  fer  us  next  Sun- 
day." 

]\Ir.  TVestmore  looked  intently  at  the  man  for  an  in- 
stant, and  his  lips  parted  as  if  to  reply.  Instead,  how- 
ever, he  turned  without  a  word  and  moved  slowly 
towards  the  house. 

He  reached  Nora's  side,  and  took  her  outstretched 
hand  in  his.  Tears  of  joy  were  in  her  eyes  as  she  lifted 
them  to  her  Rector's  face,  and  endeavoured  to  find 
adequate  words  in  which  to  express  her  gratitude. 

"  I  know  we  are  safe  now !  "  she  said.  "  But  we 
never  thought  of  you  buying  the  place  !  I  cannot  under- 
stand it  at  all.  Four  thousand  dollars !  What  a  lot  of 
money !  " 

"  ]STo,  my  child,  you  cannot  understand  it  now,  but 
you  will  some  day,"  and  as  ]\Ir.  Westniore  turned  his 
face  towards  the  window  a  tear  might  have  been  de- 
tected stealing  slowly  down  his  furrowed  cheek. 


CHAPTER  VII 
THE  FARRIXGTONS 

SILAS  FARRIXGTOX  flung  himself  out  of  his 
sleigh  ami  handed  the  reins  to  a  young  man  who 
had  come  forth  from  the  store. 

"  What  are  ye  so  slow  about  ?  "  he  snarled.  "  Here 
I've  been  callin'  fer  the  last  five  minutes.  Why  don't 
ye  hustle  when  I  call  I  " 

"  I  was  running  molasses,"  came  the  surly  reply, 
"  and  how  could  I  leave " 

"  There  now,  no  back  talk ;  I  never  allow  it.  Put  up 
the  horse,  an'  don't  spend  all  day  about  it,  either." 

With  those  words  Farrington  made  his  way  to  the 
house,  leaving  the  young  man  inwardly  cursing  his  un- 
just master. 

"  Ye're  late,  Si,"  a  voice  exclaimed,  as  he  opened  the 
door  and  entered.  "  We've  been  waitin'  fer  ye  a  full 
hour  or  more." 

"  I  couldn't  help  it,"  Farrington  replied.  "  I  was 
delayed." 

"  An'  how  much  did  ye  pay  fer  the  farm,  Si  ?  " 

"Farm  be — be — hanged!     I'm  sick  of  it." 

u  But  didn't  ye  git  it,  Si  ?  "  his  wife  persisted. 

"Git  it?    No!" 

«  What !  " 

"I  said  no!" 

60 


THE    PAERINGTONS  61 

*  But  who  did,  then  ?  " 

"  The  parson." 

"What!     Parson  John?" 

"  Certainly.  Who  else  would  he  fool  enough  to  in- 
terfere with  me  ?  " 

"Well,  well!"  ejaculated  Mrs.  Farrington.  "Do 
tell  us  ahout  it,  Si  ?  " 

"  No,  not  a  word  more  ahout  it,"  snapped  her  hus- 
band, "  till  we  git  down  to  dinner.  I'm  most  starved. 
Is  it  ready  \  " 

"  Dear  me,  yes.  I'd  clean  fergot  ahout  it,"  and 
Mrs.  Farrington  hustled  off  to  the  kitchen. 

Everything  in  the  dining-room  betokened  care  and 
industry,  from  the  nicely-papered  walls,  adorned  with 
pictures,  to  the  large  sideboard,  with  its  display  of  old 
china  and  glassware.  The  table-linen  was  spotlessly 
clean,  and  the  food  served  up  was  well  cooked.  But, 
notwithstanding  this,  something  seemed  wrong.  An 
indefinable  atmosphere  pervaded  the  place  which  spoiled 
the  effect  of  it  all.  It  was  not  the  corrupted  English 
falling  from  the  lips  of  these  people  which  grated  so 
harshly  upon  the  senses.  It  was  the  spirit  of  pretence 
which  overshadowed  everything — the  effort  to  be  what 
they  were  not.  Had  old  Titbottom  been  there  with  his 
":  magic  spectacles,  he  would  have  beheld  in  Farrington 
'  little  more  than  a  roll  of  bills ;  in  his  wife  the  very 
essence  of  pretence  and  ambition ;  while  the  daughter 
Eudora  and  their  son  Dick  would  be  labelled  "  exact 
samples  "  of  the  parents. 

Farrington  told  of  the  auction  in  no  measured  terms. 


62  THE    FOURTH    WATCH 

He  was  annoyed  at  the  unexpected  outcome  and  did  not 
try  to  conceal  his  anger.  The  inserted  exclamations 
of  the  family  told  their  own  tale.  They  were  much 
disappointed,  especially  Mrs.  Farrington. 

"  Only  think !  "  she  cried,  when  her  husband  had 
ended,  "  that  the  parson  above  all  men  should  interfere 
in  this  matter!  Ilim  that's  alius  talkin'  about  lovin' 
our  neighbours  as  ourselves,  standin'  a-tween  us  an* 
our  natral  rights.  I  hev  often  told  Eudora,  heven't 
I,  dear?  that  we  need  a  better  place  than  this.  Now, 
that  Frenclle  homestead  is  jist  what  we  want,  an'  it 
seemed  as  if  the  Lord  intended  Ave  should  hev  it,  too. 
It  is  so  included  from  all  pryin'  eyes,  an'  away  from 
them  country  people  who  are  so  uncongenial.  Their 
manners  are  so  rough  an'  they  know  so  little  about 
proper  equity.  The  parson  knows  very  well  that  we 
are  city  bred,  an'  that  our  descendants  hev  alius  had 
good  blood  in  their  veins,  an'  that  we  try  to  follow  their 
example  by  givin'  a  tone  to  the  community  ever  sense 
we  came  from  the  city.  He  knows  what  we  are  a-tryin* 
to  do,  an'  yit  he'll  serve  us  in  this  mean  fashion." 

"  I  wonder  where  he  got  the  spondulicks,"  broke  in 
her  son  Eichard. 

"Richard,  Richard!  you  must  not  use  sech  a  word 
as  that,"  and  Mrs.  Farrington  cast  a  reproving  glance  at 
her  son.  "  Ye  must  hev  heerd  it  from  Tom  Jones ;  ye 
know  ye  never  hear  it  at  home,  fcr  we  are  alius  very 
pertickcler  about  our  language." 

"  Well,  money,  then,  ma.  I  don't  care  what  ye 
call  it." 


THE    FAERINGTONS  63 

**  Oh,  I  guess  that'll  not  be  hard  to  account  fer," 
replied  Farrington  with  a  knowing  laugh.  "  Tom 
Fletcher  may  be  able  to  throw  some  light  upon  the  sub- 
ject. It  seems  to  me  that  the  parson  has  come  to  the 
end  of  his  rope.  We've  borne  with  'im  fer  years,  an' 
it's  about  time  he  was  makin'  a  move.  He's  too  old  fer 
the  ministry.  We  need  a  young  man,  with  fire  an'  vim. 
Anyway,  the  rest  may  do  as  they  please,  but  as  fer  me 
not  another  cent  do  I  pay  as  long  as  he  is  in  charge." 

"  Ye've  alius  paid  well,  Si,"  remarked  his  wife,  "  an' 
the  parson  is  not  one  bit  grateful." 

"  Yes,  I  reckon  I  hev,"  and  Farrington  gulped  down 
his  tea.  "  I  used  to  contribute  heavily ;  eight  dollars 
a  year,  an'  a  bag  of  oats  at  Christmas.  Now  I  give 
only  four  sense  I've  enlarged  my  bizness  an'  can't  afford 
so  much.  Besides,  the  parson  doesn't  deal  with  me  as 
much  as  he  should.  He  gits  too  many  of  his  supplies 
in  the  city.  If  he  expects  me  to  paternise  'im  he  must 
deal  with  me.  I've  told  'im  so  very  plainly  on  several 
occasions." 

"  Ye  certainly  did  yer  part,  Si,"  Mrs.  Farrington 
replied.  "  If  all  in  the  parish  'ud  do  as  well  there'd 
be  no  trouble.  It  is  disgraceful  that  these  country 
people  do  not  pay  more  to  support  the  Church.  It 
throws  sich  a  burden  upon  us.  Only  think  of  Mrs. 
Jimmy  Brown  buyin'  a  new  Bristles  carpet,  when  the 
old  one  was  quite  good  enough.  An'  her  last  year's  hat 
could  hev  been  made  over  as  well  as  not.  But,  no,  it 
would  not  do.  She  had  to  hev  another,  which  cost 
quite  a  penny,  so  I  understand." 


64  THE    FOURTH    WATCH 

"  An'  Vivien  Nelson's  fur-lined  coat,  ma,"  chimed 
in  Eudora,  "  I  know  it  didn't  cost  one  cent  less  than 
seventy-five  dollars!" 

"  These  country  people  are  so  extravagant,  ye 
know,"  returned  her  mother.  "  They  are  alius  tryin' 
to  imitate  their  superiors.  To  think  of  Vivien  Nelson, 
a  farmer's  daughter,  hevin'  a  fur-lined  coat  which  cost 
almost  as  much  as  Eudora's!  It  is  really  disgraceful! 
I'm  sure  her  father  could  give  more  to  the  Church  than 
he  does,  an'  yit  he'll  let  us  bear  the  brunt  of  the 
burden." 

"  Guess  he'll  hev  to  bear  mor'n  ever  now,"  replied 
her  husband  as  he  rose  from  the  table.  "  I'm  done  with 
the  whole  bizness,  an'  I'm  mighty  glad  I  heven't  paid 
fcr  the  last  year,  an'  don't  intend  to  now." 

As  Farrington  passed  out  of  the  dining-room  into 
the  store  his  clerk,  a  young  man  new  to  the  busi- 
ness, was  serving  a  middle-aged  woman  at  the 
counter. 

"  I'm  sorry,  Mrs.  Sturgis,"  the  former  was  saying, 
11  but  we  are  entirely  out  of  it  just  now.  We  can  order 
it  for  you,  though,  and  have  it  in  a  few  days." 

Farrington  turned  angrily  upon  his  heel  as  these 
words  fell  upon  his  ears. 

"  What  does  she  want  ?  "  he  demanded. 

"  Number  forty,  white  thread ;  but  we're  out  of  it." 

"  You  stupid  blockhead,  we're  not  out  of  it !  We're 
never  out !  If  you'd  use  yer  eyes  half  as  much  as  yer 
tongue  ye'd  be  all  right." 

"  But  I  can't  find  it.     I've  looked  everywhere,"  and 


THE    FARRINGTONS  65 

the  clerk's  eyes  flashed  danger  as  he  turned  them  upon 
his  master. 

"  Well,  look  again.  Don't  stand  thar  starin'  like 
an  ijut !  " 

The  young  man  did  as  he  was  commanded.  He 
searched  and  rummaged,  hut  all  in  vain. 

"  Oh,  come  out  of  that,  an'  let  me  thar,"  and  Far- 
rington  shoved  his  way  past  the  clerk,  and  fumbled 
excitedly  in  the  box. 

"  Ah — yes — no — fifty — sixty — Well,  I  declare !  Not 
thar !  Confound  it !  Why  didn't  ye  tell  me  we  were 
out  before  ?  Why  did  ye  wait  till  the  last  spool  was 
gone  afore  sayin'  a  word  about  it  ?  " 

"  I've  only  been  here  a  week,"  replied  the  clerk, 
and  how  could  I  know  you  were  out.  ISTo  one  has 
called  for  number  forty  thread  since  I've  been  here." 

Farrington  was  beaten,  and  was  forced  to  swallow  his 
anger  as  best  he  could.  It  was  most  aggravating  to  be 
thus  humiliated  in  the  presence  of  this  woman.  He 
strode  across  the  room,  and  stood  with  his  back  to  the 
stove,  wondering  how  he  could  get  even  with  his  clerk. 
He  would  discharge  him.  ~No,  that  wouldn't  do.  It 
was  hard  to  get  a  man  to  stay  with  him,  and  this  was 
a  good  worker.  Anyway,  he  must  be  taught  his  place, 
and  not  answer  back.  He  would  let  him  know  that  he 
owned  the  store. 

"  Give  me  my  mail,  please." 

Farrington  started,  and  turning,  beheld  a  little  lad 
standing  by  his  side. 

"  Mail !   whose  mail  ? "   he   demanded,  glad  of  an 


66  THE    FOURTH    WATCH 

excuse  to  give  vent  to  his  anger.  "  What's  yer  name? 
I  don't  know  anything  about  my  mail." 

"  I  want  Tarson  John's  mail,"  persisted  the  boy. 
Don't  you  know  him  ?  " 

"  Know  'im  !  Well,  I  guess !  I  know  'im  too  d — n 
well.  But  who  are  you,  and  what  do  ye  want  with  the 
parson's  mail  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  live  with  him  now.  I'm  Dan,  old  Jim's 
hoy.    Didn't  you  know  I  was  there  ?  " 

"  Ha,  ha,  that's  a  good  one !  To  think  that  I  should 
know  every  brat  who  comes  to  the  place." 

"I'm  not  a  brat!  I'm  almost  a  man,"  and  Dan 
straightened  himself  up.  "Give  me  my  mail,  please; 
Parson  John's  waiting  for  it." 

"  Let  'im  wait.  I'm  not  supposed  to  give  out  mail 
to  all  the  riff-raff  who  comes  fer  it.  Why  doesn't  he 
come  'imself  ?  " 

"  He's  busy." 

"  Busy !  busy !  Yes,  I  s'pose  he  is  busy,  plannin' 
mischief;  wonderin'  what  to  do  with  Billy  Fletcher's 
gold.  How  mucb  did  he  git  ?  I  s'pose  he  gave  you 
some  to  hold  yer  tongue." 

Farrington  had  no  intention  of  uttering  these  last 
words,  but  his  heart  was  so  full  of  anger  that  he  hardly 
knew  what  he  was  saying. 

Dan's  eyes  flashed,  and  his  little  hands  suddenly 
doubled  at  his  side.  He  did  not  comprehend  the  mean- 
ing of  these  words,  but  he  felt  that  his  friend,  the  white- 
headed  old  man,  was  being  insulted.  With  him  to  thinx 
was  to  act,  and  many  a  boy  larger  than  himself  had 


THE    FARKINGTONS  67 

felt  the  lightning  blows  of  those  little  tense  knuckles. 

"  What  do  ye  mean  ?  "  he  demanded,  looking  up  into 
Farrington's  face. 

"  What  do  I  mean  ?  Well,  if  ye  want  to  know,  I 
mean  that  Parson  John  is  a  rogue,  an'  that  you  are 
nuthin'  hut  a  young  sucker,  an  impudent  outcast, 
spongin'  fer  yer  livin'  upon  others." 

Hardly  had  the  words  left  Farrington's  lips,  when, 
with  a  cry  as  of  a  wild  animal,  Dan  leaped  full  upon 
him,  caught  him  by  the  hair  with  one  hand,  and  with 
the  other  rained  blow  after  blow  upon  his  face. 

With  a  howl  of  mingled  pain  and  rage,  Farrington 
endeavoured  to  free  himself  from  this  human  wild-cat. 
He  struggled  and  fought,  and  at  length  succeeded  in 
tearing  away  that  writhing,  battering  form.  With  one 
hand  he  held  him  at  arm's  length  and  shook  him  as 
a  terrier  shakes  a  rat.  Dan  struggled,  squirmed  and  bit, 
but  all  in  vain ;  he  was  held  as  in  a  vice.  Not  satisfied 
with  shaking  the  lad,  Farrington  reached  over  and,  seiz- 
ing a  broken  barrel  stave  from  the  wood-box,  brought 
it  down  over  the  lad's  shoulder  and  back  with  a  re- 
sounding thud.  A  cry  of  pain,  the  first  that  he  had 
uttered,  fell  from  Dan's  lips,  and  with  a  mighty  effort 
he  tried  to  escape.  The  stick  was  raised  again.  It 
was  about  to  fall,  when  suddenly  it  flew  into  the  air, 
the  grip  of  the  boy  relaxed,  and  Farrington  staggered 
back  from  a  furious  blow  dealt  him  by  the  young  clerk. 
Farrington  tried  to  recover,  but  each  time  he  was  hurled 
to  the  floor  by  the  stalwart  athlete  standing  before  him, 
his  eyes  blazing  with  anger. 


68  THE    FOURTH    WATCH 

"  Get  up,  you  coward !  "  he  cried,  when  at  length 
Farrington  remained  sprawling  upon  the  floor.  "  Get 
up  if  you  can,  and  dare  !  " 

"  Curse  you  !  "  snarled  tlie  defeated  man.  "  Ye'll 
pay  fer  this !  " 

''  We'll  see  about  that  later,"  calmly  replied  the  clerk. 
"  There's  to  be  no  more  bullying  while  I'm  here,  and 
I  won't  be  here  long,  for  I'm  done  with  you  and  your 
outfit." 

"  Go,  go  at  once,  d — n  you,  or  I'll  kick  ye  out ! " 
shouted  Farrington. 

"  Kick  me  out,  if  you  can,"  came  the  reply.  "  Get 
up  and  do  it,"  and  the  young  man  laughed  scornfully. 
"  ISTo,  you  know  you  can't.  Xow,  look  here ;  just  a  word 
before  we  part.  I've  stood  your  insolent  abuse  for  a 
week,  without  retaliating.  But  when  you  laid  hands 
upon  that  boy  it  was  a  different  matter." 

"  But  he  flew  at  me  like  a  wild-cat,"  Farrington 
growled. 

"  Yes,  and  wouldn't  anyone  with  a  spark  of  life  in 
him  at  all,  after  he  had  been  insulted  by  such  a  thing 
as  you.  You  like  to  get  a  chap  such  as  that  in  your 
claws  and  torture  him.  You've  done  it  before,  I  under- 
stand. But  it's  not  been  such  fun  this  time.  Xo,  no, 
the  worm  has  turned  at  last.  I'm  going  now — so  do 
what  you  like.     I've  no  fear  of  such  a  thing  as  you." 

He  turned,  put  on  his  heavy  coat  and  left  the  build- 
ing. As  he  did  so  Dan  slipped  out  ahead  of  him,  and 
started  up  the  road  as  fast  as  his  little  feet  would  carry 
him. 


CHAPTER  VIII 
THE  GOLDEN  KEY 

WHY,  Dan,  what's  the  matter  ?  " 
Nellie  was  sitting  before  the  open  fire  bus- 
ily engaged  with  her  needle  as  the  lad  entered 
the  room.  He  stared  at  her  for  an  instant,  and  then  a 
sheepish  grin  crossed  his  face.  His  clothes  were  torn, 
and  his  hair  tossed  in  the  wildest  confusion,  while 
marks  of  blood  spotted  his  cheeks. 

"  "What  in  the  world  have  you  been  doing  ?  "  Nellie 
insisted. 

"  Nuthin'  much,"  came  the  slow  reply. 

"  Well,  you  don't  look  like  it.    Have  you  been  fight- 


ing 


2  " 


"  Y'bet !  "  and  Dan  smacked  his  lips.   "  I  swatted  him 
good  and  hard,  that's  what  I  did." 
"   "Did  what?" 

"  Swatted  him — punched  his  face,  and  dug  out  some 
of  his  hair." 

"  Punched  his  face  and  dug  out  his  hair !  "  Nellie 
exclaimed.  "  I  don't  understand.  Sit  down,  and  tell 
me  about  it." 

Perched  upon  a  chair  Dan  gave  a  brief  though  vivid 
description  of  the  scene  in  the  store,  to  which  Nellie 
listened  with  almost  breathless  interest. 

69 


70  THE    FOURTH    WATCH 

"  Aid  did  he  say  that  father  took  old  Billy's  gold  ?  " 
she  asked.     "  Are  you  sure  ?  " 

"  Sure's  I'm  livin'.  lie  said  it,  and  he  called  him  a 
rogue  and  me  a — a — had  name !  "  Dan  was  about  to 
tell  what  that  name  was,  but  the  word  stuck  in  his 
throat,  and  he  found  it  impossible  to  bring  it  forth. 
"  Sucker  and  sponger !  "  how  those  words  stung  him. 
How  contemptuously  his  father  had  always  spoken  of 
such  people.  They  rankled  in  his  heart  as  he  sped  up 
the  road.  A  squirrel  in  an  old  fir-tree  had  shouted  them 
at  him,  while  a  forlorn  crow  soaring  overhead  had 
looked  down  and  given  its  hoarse  croak  of  contempt. 
lie  was  a  sucker — a  sponger !  living  upon  others ! 
What  was  he  doing  to  earn  his  living?  [Nothing. 
What  would  his  father  think  were  he  alive  ? 

"  Dan,  I'm  sorry  you  did  that,"  and  as  ISTellie  looked 
into  those  big  brown  eyes  a  deep  love  for  this  little  lad 
welled  up  in  her  heart. 

"  Why.  I  thought  you'd  be  glad,"  came  the  astonished 
reply.  "  If  anybody  called  my  dad  bad  names  when  he 
was  alive  I'd  been  glad  if  someone  swatted  him." 

RTellie  remained  silent  for  a  while,  steadily  working 
away  at  her  sewing. 

"  Dan,"  she  said  at  length,  "  I  want  you  to  promise 
me  something,  will  you  ?  " 

"Y'bet.    What  is  it?" 

"  I  want  you  to  promise  that  you  will  say  nothing 
about  this  to  my  father." 

"  Why  ?  Wouldn't  he  like  to  know  how  I  punched 
that  man  ?  " 


THE    GOLDEN    KEY  71 

"  No,  no.  And  besides  I  don't  want  him  to  know 
what  has  been  said  about  him.  It's  a  cruel  lie,  and  if 
father  hears  of  it,  it  will  worry  him  so  much.  Will  you 
keep  the  secret  with  me  ?  " 

"  Yes,  if  you  want  me  to.  I'll  not  say  a  word,  but, 
oh,  I  think  Parson  John  would  like  to  know  how  I 
punched  him,"  and  Dan  gave  a  deep  sigh  at  the  thought 
of  losing  such  pleasure. 

"  Thank  you,"  Nellie  replied.  "  I  know  I  can  trust 
you.  Run  away  now,  change  your  clothes,  and  wash 
your  face;  then  get  the  wood  in,  before  father  comes 
home." 

Long  and  silently  Nellie  remained  before  the  fire 
with  her  hands  resting  upon  her  lap.  Her  brain  was  in 
a  tumult,  and  her  heart  ached.  What  else  was  being 
said  about  her  father  ?  To  whom  should  she  go  for 
information  ?  She  thought  of  Mrs.  Larkins,  but  then 
she  was  over  at  the  Hall  getting  ready  for  a  church 
sale  to  be  given  that  very  evening  by  the  Ladies'  Aid 
Society.  Stephen  was  coming  for  her  early,  as  she  was 
to  have  charge  of  one  of  the  fancy  booths.  Afterwards 
there  was  to  be  a  quiet  dance  by  the  young  people,  and 
she  had  promised  Stephen  that  she  would  stay  for  a 
while,  and  have  her  first  dance  with  him. 

At  length  she  aroused  from  her  reverie  and  prepared 
her  father's  supper.  How  weary  he  looked,  she  thought, 
as  she  sat  and  watched  him,  and  listened  to  his  casual 
talk  about  his  afternoon  visit  and  the  auction  in  the 
morning.  A  feeling  of  resentment  filled  her  heart  as 
she  recalled  what  Farrington  had  said.     To  think  that 


.72  THE    FOURTH    WATCH 

be  should  say  such  things  about  her  father,  who  was 
always  so  patient  and  loving;  who  was  ever  trying  to 
help  others,  no  matter  who  they  were.  Tears  came  to 
her  eyes  at  the  thought.  Suddenly  she  rose,  and  going 
to  where  her  father  was  sitting  put  her  arms  around 
him,  and  gave  him  a  loving  kiss. 

"  IIo,  ho !  "  came  the  delighted  exclamation.  "  "What 
ails  my  little  girl  to-night  \  What  does  she  want 
now  ?  " 

"  I  want  you,  daddy,"  she  replied.  "  I  want  to  love 
you  more,  and  be  more  help  to  you." 

"  Help  me  more !  What  could  you  do  more  than  you 
do  now  ?  There,  run  away  and  get  ready.  I  hear  bells ; 
Stephen  must  be  coming,  and  I'm  afraid  you'll  be  late. 
Dan  and  I  will  look  after  the  dishes." 

That  evening  in  the  church  hall,  when  the  sale  had 
ended,  the  fiddler  tuned  up  his  instrument,  and  several 
made  ready  for  the  dance.  It  was  truly  a  pleasant 
sight  which  met  the  eyes  of  a  number  of  the  older  ones 
as  they  sat  back  near  the  wall.  Grouped  around  tho 
large  room  the  flower  and  strength  of  the  neighbourhood 
chatted  with  one  another,  while  waiting  for  the  dance 
to  begin.  They  seemed  like  one  large  family,  these 
youths  and  maidens,  who  had  known  one  another  from 
childhood.  Bright  and  happy  were  their  faces,  glowing 
with  health,  and  the  active  exercise  of  daily  life. 

Somewhat  apart  from  the  rest  stood  Xellie  Westmore, 
engaged  in  earnest  conversation  with  Vivien  ^Nelson. 
Presently  the  former  turned  partly  around  and  her 
eyes  rested  upon  Mrs.  Larkins  sitting  quietly  in  one 


THE    GOLDEN    KEY  T3 

corner  of  the  room.  A  bright  smile  illumined  her  face 
as  she  crossed  over  and  sat  down  by  her  side. 

"  I  am  glad  you  stayed,  Mrs.  Larkins,"  she  began. 
"  I  did  not  think  you  would  care  to  remain." 

"  I  like  to  see  the  young  people  enjoying  themselves," 
Mrs.  Larkins  replied,  "  and  I  hope  you  will  have  a 
pleasant  time,  Xellie." 

"  I  generally  do,"  came  the  slow  response ;  "  but  to- 
night my  conscience  troubles  me." 

"  And  in  what  way  ?  " 

"  Oh,  about  my  father." 

"Why,  is  he  sick?" 

"  Xo,  not  that.  He  is  troubled  somewhat  in  his 
mind,  and  I  feel  I  should  have  stayed  at  home  to  cheer 
him  up.  I  know  he  needs  me  to-night,  and  it  was  just 
his  love  which  made  him  forget  himself.  He  is  always 
like  that ;  thinking  about  others  all  the  time." 

"  Don't  worry,  Xellie.  Your  father  will  have  his 
books  to  occupy  his  mind." 

"  Yes,  I  know  that.  But  he  is  feeling  rather  down- 
cast to-night  after  that  auction  this  morning.  Some 
cruel  things  were  said  about  him,  and  I  always  know 
when  he  is  in  trouble,  though  he  seldom  complains." 

Xellie  paused,  and  gazed  for  a  time  upon  the  group 
in  the  centre  of  the  room,  as  if  intent  on  what  was 
taking  place  there.  Then  her  dark  eyes,  filled  with 
a  questioning  look,  turned  full  upon  Mrs.  Larkins' 
face. 

"  I  am  glad  to  be  with  you  for  a  few  moments,"  she 
whispered,  "  for  I  wish  to  ask  you  something.     I  have 


74  THE    FOURTH    WATCH 

only  spoken  of  it  to  Vivien,  for  she  is  so  true  and  noble. 
Have  you  heard  these  stories  about  my  father,  Mrs. 
Larkins  ?  " 

"  In  connection  with  Billy  Fletcher's  gold  ?  "  was  the 
reply. 

"  Yes,  yes,  that  is  what  I  mean.  Oh,  it  troubles  mo 
so  much.'' 

"  Yes,  I  have  heard  some  of  them,  Xellie.  But  do 
not  give  yourself  unnecessary  concern.  Evil-minded 
people  will  talk.  I  said  nothing  to  you,  hoping  the 
matter  would  soon  die  down.  lias  your  father  heard 
anything?  " 

"  No,  not  yet,  and  I  trust  no  one  will  tell  him.  lie 
has  enough  worry  now  without  these.  He  has  that 
trouble  with  the  mine  in  British  Columbia;  then,  this 
morning's  annoyance.  Oh,  he  must  not  know  what 
people  are  saying !  " 

"  I  have  heard  but  little  lately,"  Mrs.  Larkins  re- 
sponded in  an  effort  to  comfort  her.  "  Let  us  trust  that 
the  talk  will  not  amount  to  much." 

"  But  Vivien  tells  me  that  it  is  not  so.  Since  the 
auction  the  stories  have  started  up  again  stronger  than 
ever.  People  cannot  understand  where  father  got  so 
much  money  to  pay  for  the  farm.  I  don't  even  know 
myself,  for  father  never  told  me.  Tom  Fletcher  and 
others  are  saying  all  sorts  of  things.  What  shall  we 
do?" 

Her  bosom  heaved  as  she  uttered  these  words,  which 
somewhat  expressed  the  agitated  state  of  her  mind. 
Before  Mrs.   Larkins  could  further  reply,  the  music 


THE    GOLDEN    KEY  75 

struct  up,  and  Stephen  came  for  Nellie  to  claim  her 
for  the  opening  dance. 

"  How  worthy,"  thought  Mrs.  Larkins  as  her  eyes  fol- 
lowed Nellie  as  she  went  forward,  "  is  she  of  a  true 
man's  love.  What  nobleness  and  strength  of  character 
are  there.  But  what  of  Stephen  ?  If  he  would  only 
get  the  right  grip.  Such  a  face  as  his  is  surely  meant 
for  higher  things  than  a  life  of  carelessness." 

She  was  aroused  by  Farrington,  who  had  taken  the 
seat  by  her  side  which  Nellie  had  recently  vacated. 

"  They're  hevin'  a  good  time,"  he  began,  nodding 
towards  the  dancers.     "  Dick's  in  his  element  to-night." 

"  Rhoda  Gadsby  makes  him  a  good  partner,"  replied 
Mrs.  Larkins. 

"  Only  fair,  Mrs.  Larkins,  only  fair.  She's  not  a 
bad  girl,  but  no  real  pardner  fer  my  son  Dick.  I'm 
sorry  her  father  is  my  opponent  at  the  comin'  election. 
He'll  never  win,  mark  my  word.  Gadsby's  too  full  of 
notions.  He  wants  to  set  the  world  on  fire,  an'  has  all 
kinds  of  new-fangled  idees.  He  will  never  do  fer  a 
Councillor — never.  What  Glendow  wants  is  a  real 
practical  man,  one  who  understands  human  nater." 

"  But  Mr.  Gadsby  is  a  superior  man,"  replied  Mrs. 
Larkins.  "  He  reads  much,  and  is  trying  to  farm  along 
scientific  lines." 

"  Tryin'  to  farm !  Yes,  yer  right  thar,  Mrs.  Larkins. 
But  that's  about  as  fer  as  he's  got.  He  has  big  idees, 
an'  is  alius  talkin'  about  this  parish  bein'  behint  the 
times." 

"  And  in  what  way  ?  " 


76  THE    FOURTH    WATCH 

"  Oh,  as  regards  the  schools.  They  don't  teach  enough 
branches,  sich  as  botany,  drawin'  an'  sich  like.  What 
do  the  childern  of  Glendow  want  with  botany  stuck  into 
their  brains  ?  Let  'em  learn  to  read,  write  an'  cipher. 
Them  things  will  pay.  But  as  fer  botany,  who  ever 
heerd  of  it  helpin'  a  man  to  manage  a  farm,  or  a  woman 
to  sew,  cook  or  make  butter?  Xow,  look  at  me,  Mrs. 
Larkins.  I  never  studied  botany,  an'  behold  my  bizness. 
I  don't  know  a  bit  about  botany,  an'  here  I'm  runnin' 
fer  a  Councillor,  an'  lookin'  forred  to  the  Local  House. 
No,  no,  this  botany  bizness  is  all  nonsense." 

"  But,"  remonstrated  Mrs.  Larkins,  "  do  you  not 
enjoy  the  beautiful  ?  Life  should  be  more  than  the 
mere  grubbing  through  dust  and  heat,  grinding  out  our 
little  day,  wearing  out  the  body  and  cramping  up  tho 
soul  in  field,  factory,  office  or  behind  the  counter.  Life 
is  meant  to  be  enjoyed,  and  whatever  tends  to  enlarge 
our  children's  perspective,  which  will  give  them  a  love 
for  the  beautiful,  will  lessen  the  drudgery  of  life,  and 
develop  their  characters.  The  Creator  who  made  human 
beings  in  His  own  image,  and  endowed  them  with 
powers  above  the  brute  creation,  surely  intended  that 
these  divine  faculties  should  be  used  and  not  allowed  to 
lie  dormant." 

Mrs.  Larkins  spoke  more  strongly  than  was  her  wont. 
She  was  naturally  a  quiet  woman.  But  this  man's  nar- 
rowness and  ignorance  nettled  her.  Farrington,  how- 
ever, was  not  in  the  least  affected  by  such  words ;  in 
fact  he  rather  pitied  anyone  who  did  not  see  eye  to  eye 
with  him. 


THE    GOLDEN    KEY  77 

"  What  ye  say,  Mrs.  Larkins,"  he  replied,  "  is  very 
fine  in  theory.  But  the  question  is,  '  Will  it  pay  ? ' 
Per  them  as  likes  sich  things  they  may  study  'em  to 
their  hearts'  content.  But  what  do  sich  people  amount 
to  ?  I  seen  the  parson  once  stand  fer  a  long  time 
watchm'  the  settin'  sun,  an'  when  I  axed  'im  what  he 
saw  he  looked  at  me  sorter  dazed  like.  '  Mr.  Farring- 
ton,'  sez  he,  '  I  saw  wonderful  things  to-night,  past 
man's  understandin'.  I've  heen  very  near  to  God,  an' 
beheld  the  trailin'  clouds  of  His  glory !  '  '  Parson/ 
sez  I,  '  What  will  ye  take  fer  yer  knowledge  ?  How 
much  is  it  worth  ?  While  ye've  been  gazin'  out  thar  at 
that  sunset  I've  been  gazin'  at  these  letters,  an'  I  find 
I'm  better  off  by  twenty-five  dollars  by  gittin'  my  eggs 
an'  butter  to  market  day  afore  yesterday,  3 1st  when  the 
prices  had  viz.  That's  what  comes  of  gazin'  at  facts 
sich  as  price  lists  an'  knowin'  how  to  buy  an'  sell  at  the 
right  time.  That's  of  more  value  than  lookin'  at  all 
the  flowers  an'  sunsets  in  the  world !  '  The  parson 
didn't  say  nuthin',  but  jist  looked  at  me,  while  the  men 
in  the  store  haw-hawed  right  out  an'  told  the  joke  all 
round.  No,  you  may  find  music  in  ripplin'  water,  an' 
poetry  in  flowers,  an'  sunsets,  as  Phil  Gadsby  and  the 
parson  sez,  but  give  me  the  poetry  of  a  price  list,  an' 
the  music  of  good  solid  coin  upon  my  counter.  Them's 
the  things  which  tell,  an'  them's  the  things  we  want 
taught  in  our  schools." 

Just  as  Farrington  finished,  cries  of  fright  fell  upon 
their  ears.  Turning  quickly  towards  the  dancers  Mrs. 
Larkins  noticed  that  most  of  them  had  fallen  back  in 


78  TIIE    FOURTH    WATCH 

little  groups,  leaving  Stephen  Frenelle  and  Dick  Far- 
rington  alone  in  the  middle  of  the  room.  The  attitude 
of  the  two  left  no  doubt  as  to  the  cause  of  the  disturb- 
ance. "With  clenched  fists  they  faced  each  other  as  if 
about  to  engage  in  a  fierce  struggle.  The  former's  eyes 
glowed  with  an  intense  light,  while  his  strained,  white 
face  betokened  the  agitated  state  of  his  feelings. 

"  Say  that  again !  "  he  hissed,  looking  straight  at  his 
opponent.     "  Say  it  if  you  dare !  " 

Dick  stood  irresolute  with  the  look  of  fear  blanching 
his  face  at  sight  of  the  angry  form  before  him.  While 
he  hesitated  and  all  held  their  breath,  Xcllie  TVestmore 
moved  swiftly  forward,  and  laid  a  timid  hand  upon 
Stephen's  arm. 

"  Stephen,  Stephen !  "  she  pleaded.  "  Stop !  don't 
go  any  further!  Be  a  man!  Come,  let  us  go 
home !  " 

Quickly  he  turned  and  looked  into  her  eyes,  and  at 
that  look  the  pallor  fled  his  face,  leaving  it  flushed  and 
abashed.  His  clenched  hands  relaxed,  and  without  a 
word  he  followed  her  to  the  door.  As  they  donned  their 
wraps  and  passed  out  into  the  night,  sighs  of  relief 
at  the  termination  of  this  startling  incident  were  plainly 
heard.  Dick  gave  a  sarcastic  laugh,  and  the  dance  con- 
tinued as  if  nothing  unusual  had  happened. 

For  a  while  neither  Nellie  nor  Stephen  spoke  as  they 
sped  along  the  road,  drawn  by  a  magnificent  chestnut 
mare.  The  night  was  clear,  and  the  crescent  moon  rose 
high  in  the  heavens.  "Not  a  breath  of  wind  stirred  the 
trees,  and  the  «nly  sound  which  broke  the  silence  waa 


THE    GOLDEN    KEY  79 

the  jingling  bells  keeping  time  to  the  horse's  nimble 
feet. 

"  He  called  me  a  fool  and  a  pauper !  "  Stephen  at 
length  exclaimed.     "  Did  you  hear  him  ?  " 

"  Certainly,"  came  the  reply.  "  How  could  any  one 
help  hearing  him  ?  " 

"  I'd  have  knocked  him  down  if  it  hadn't  been  for 
yon,  Nellie." 

"  I'm  glad  you  didn't,  Stephen." 

il  But  I'll  show  him  a  thing  or  two.  I'll  get  even 
with  him  yet.  I'll  teach  him  to  call  me  a  fool  and  a 
pauper !  " 

"  Why  not  get  more  than  even  with  him  ?  You  can 
do  it  without  any  trouble." 

Nellie  spoke  very  impressively,  and  Stephen  looked 
at  her  in  surprise. 

"  I  know  I  can  do  that,  for  he's  nothing  but  a  clown. 
But  what  else  can  I  do  ?  " 

"  I  didn't  mean  that,  Stephen.  That  is  only  getting 
even  with  your  opponent  in  brute  fashion.  You 
will  only  be  putting  yourself  on  an  equality  with  him. 
You  want  to  get  more  than  even,  not  by  hitting  back 
and  returning  abuse  for  abuse.  No,  not  that  way,  but 
by  rising  above  him  in  manhood." 

"  How  ?    In  what  way,  Nellie  ?  " 

"  Settle  down  to  steady  work.  Bedeem  your  home. 
Show  Dick  and  the  people  of  Glendow  that  you  are  not 
a  fool  or  a  pauper,  but  a  man.  Oh,  Stephen,  we  want 
to  be  proud  of  you — and  I  do,  too." 

■"  Do  you,  Nellie,  really  \  " 


80  THE    FOURTH    WATCH 

"  Indeed  I  do,  Stephen." 

For  an  instant  only  their  eye9  met.  For  an  instant 
there  was  silence.  But  in  that  instant,  that  mere  atom 
of  time,  there  opened  up  to  Stephen  a  new  meaning  of 
life.  A  virile  energy  rent  the  old  husk  of  indifference, 
and  a  yearning,  startling  in  its  intensity,  stabbed  his 
heart,  to  "  make  good,"  to  recover  lost  ground  and  to 
do  something  of  which  Xellie  should  be  proud. 

It  was  love — the  golden  key  which  had  at  last  opened 
to  the  young  man  the  mystic  door  of  life's  great  respon- 
sibility. 


CHAPTER  IX 
BEATING  THE  DEVIL 

FATHER,  I  am  becoming  uneasy  about  Dan." 
Parson  John  and  Nellie  were  walking  slowly 
along  the  road  from  the  neat  little  parish  church. 
It  was  a  Sunday  morning.  Not  a  breath  of  wind  stirred 
the  balmy  and  spring-like  air.  A  recent  thaw  had  re- 
moved much  of  the  snow,  leaving  the  fields  quite  bare, 
the  roads  slippery,  and  the  ice  on  the  river  like  one  huge 
gleaming  mirror. 

"  Why,  what  do  you  mean  ? "  asked  the  parson. 
"  What  makes  you  uneasy  about  Dan  ?  " 

"  He  has  been  so  restless  of  late." 

"  Doesn't  he  mind  you  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes.  He  is  always  ready  and  anxious  to  do 
anything  I  ask  him.  But  there  is  a  far-away  look  in 
his  eyes,  and  sometimes  he  gives  such  a  start  when  I 
speak  to  him.  His  old  life  was  so  rough  and  stirring, 
that  I  fear  he  misses  it,  and  longs  to  be  back  there 
again." 

"  But  he  is  interested  in  his  studies,  is  he  not  ?  " 

"  Yes,  to  a  certain  extent.  But  not  as  much  as  for- 
merly. It  is  hard  for  him  to  settle  down  to  steady 
work.    He  seems  to  be  thinking  and  dreaming  of  some- 

81 


82  THE    FOURTH    WATCH 

thing  else.  I  cannot  understand  him  at  all.  I  love  the 
lad,  and  believe  he  is  much  attached  to  us." 

"  What  do  you  think  we  had  better  do  ?  " 

"  I  hardly  know,  father.  But  you  might  take  him 
with  you  sometimes  on  your  drives.  lie  is  passionately 
fond  of  Midnight,  and  it  would  liven  him  up.  Why 
not  let  him  go  with  you  to  the  funeral  at  Craig's 
Corner  this  afternoon  ?  lie  would  be  company  for  you, 
too." 

"  But  I'm  not  coming  home  until  to-morrow.  I  ex- 
pect to  spend  the  night  there,  and  in  the  morning  go 
overland  to  see  the  Stickles  and  take  those  good  things 
you  have  been  making  for  the  sick  man.  You  will  need 
Dan  to  stay  with  you." 

"  Xo,  I  shall  be  all  right.  Vivien  Nelson  has  asked 
me  to  go  there  to-night,  so  I  shall  get  along  nicely." 

"  Very  well,  dear,"  her  father  replied.  "  You  aro 
just  like  your  mother,  always  planning  for  someone 
else,  and  planning  so  well,  too." 

Dan's  heart  thrilled  with  pride  and  delight  as  he  sat 
by  Parson  John's  side  and  watched  Midnight  swinging 
along  at  her  usual  steady  jog  when  there  was  no  special 
hurry.  So  intent  was  the  one  upon  watching  the 
horse,  and  the  other  upon  his  sermon,  that  neither 
noticed  a  man  driving  a  spirited  horse  dart  out  from 
behind  a  sharp  point  on  the  left,  and  cut  straight  across 
the  river.  It  was  old  Tim  Fraser,  as  big  a  rogue  a3 
existed  anywhere  in  the  land.  He  was  very  fond  of 
horses,  and  that  winter  had  purchased  a  new  flier.  He 
was  an  incessant  boaster,  and  one  day  swore  that  he 


BEATING    THE    DEVIL  83 

could  out-travel  anything  on  the  river,  Midnight  in- 
cluded. He  laid  a  wager  to  that  effect,  which  was  taken 
up  by  Dave  Morehouse,  who  imagined  the  race  would 
never  come  off,  for  Mr.  Westmore  would  have  nothing 
to  do  with  such  sport.  Old  Eraser,  therefore,  set  about 
to  meet  Parson  John,  but  for  some  time  had  failed  to 
make  connection.  Hearing  about  the  funeral,  he  was 
determined  that  the  race  should  come  off  that  very 
Sunday,  and  in  the  presence  of  the  mourners  and  their 
friends  at  that.  He  accordingly  hid  behind  Break-Neck 
Point,  and  with  delight  watched  the  parson  drive  up 
the  river,  and  at  the  right  moment  he  started  forth  for 
the  fray.  As  Eraser  swung  into  line  and  was  about  to 
pass,  Midnight  gave  a  great  bound  forward,  and  it  was 
all  that  Parson  John  could  do  to  hold  her  in  check,  for 
she  danced  and  strained  at  the  reins  as  her  rival  sped 
on  ahead.  At  length  Eraser  slowed  down,  dropped 
behind,  and,  just  when  Midnight  had  steadied  down, 
up  he  clattered  again.  This  he  did  three  times  in  quick 
succession,  causing  Midnight  to  quiver  with  excite- 
ment, and  madly  to  champ  the  bit.  At  length  the 
climax  was  reached,  for  the  noble  beast,  hearing  again 
the  thucl  of  her  opponent's  hoofs,  became  completely 
unmanageable.  With  a  snort  of  excitement  she  laid 
low  her  head,  took  the  bit  firmly  between  her  teeth,  and 
started  up  the  river  like  a  whirlwind.  The  more 
Parson  John  shouted  and  tugged  at  the  reins  the  more 
determined  she  became.  The  ice  fairly  flew  from  be- 
neath her  feet,  and  the  trailing  froth  flecked  her  black 
hide  like  driving  snow.    Neck  and  neck  the  horses  raced 


84  THE    FOURTH    WxVTCH 

for  some  time,  while  Fraser  grinned  with  delight  at 
the  success  of  his  scheme. 

Before  long  the  funeral  procession  came  into  view, 
making  for  the  little  church  near  the  graveyard  on  the 
opposite  shore.  Parson  John  was  feeling  most  keenly 
the  position  in  which  he  was  so  unfortunately  placed, 
lie  could  see  only  one  way  out  of  the  difficulty,  and 
that  was  to  leave  Fraser  behind.  Therefore,  before  the 
first  sleigh  of  the  funeral  procession  was  reached  he 
gave  Midnight  the  reins,  and  thus  no  longer  restrained 
she  drew  gradually  away  from  her  opponent.  On  she 
flew,  past  the  staring,  gaping  people,  and  for  a  mile 
beyond  the  church. 

By  this  time  Fraser  was  so  far  in  the  rear  that  he 
gave  up  the  race.  Beaten  and  crestfallen  he  turned  to 
the  left,  made  for  the  shore  and  disappeared. 

At  length  Parson  John  was  able  to  bring  Mid- 
night under  control,  when  she  trotted  quietly  down  the 
river  with  a  triumphant  gleam  in  her  handsome  eyes. 
After  the  funeral  had  been  conducted,  a  group  at  once 
surrounded  the  parson  and  questioned  him  concerning 
the  strange  occurrence  on  the  river.  Some  were  pleased 
with  Fraser's  ignominious  defeat,  and  treated  it  as  a 
huge  joke.  But  others  were  sorely  scandalized.  What 
would  the  members  of  the  other  church  in  Glendow  say 
when  they  heard  of  it  ?  To  think  that  their  clergyman 
should  be  racing  on  the  river,  and  on  a  Sunday,  too, 
while  on  his  way  to  attend  a  funeral — the  most  solemn 
of  all  occasions ! 

"  Well,  you  see,"  continued  the  parson,  after  he  had 


BEATING    THE    DEVIL  85 

explained  the  circumstance,  "  Fraser  is  a  hard  man  to 
deal  with,  and  in  some  ways  I  am  really  glad  it  hap- 
pened as  it  did." 

"  Why,  what  do  you  mean  ?  "  gasped  several  of  the 
most  rigid. 

"  It's  just  this  way,"  and  a  twinkle  shone  in  the 
parson's  eyes.  "  Five  and  thirty  years  have  I  served 
in  the  sacred  ministry  of  our  Church.  During  the 
whole  of  that  time  I  have  endeavoured  to  do  my  duty. 
I  have  faced  the  devil  on  many  occasions,  and  trust  that 
in  the  encounters  I  did  no  discredit  to  my  calling.  I 
have  tried  never  to  let  him  get  ahead  of  me,  and  I  am 
very  thankful  he  didn't  do  it  this  afternoon  with  Tim 
Fraser's  fast  horse." 

Parson  John  had  won  the  day,  and  the  group  dis- 
persed, chuckling  with  delight,  and  anxious  to  pass  on 
the  yarn  to  others. 

That  same  evening  Mr.  Westmore  was  seated  com- 
fortably in  Jim  Eickhart's  cosy  sitting-room.  The 
family  gathered  around  in  anticipation  of  a  pleasant 
chat,  for  the  rector  was  a  good  talker,  and  his  visit  was 
always  an  occasion  of  considerable  interest.  A  few 
neighbours  had  dropped  in  to  hear  the  news  of  the 
parish,  and  the  latest  tidings  from  the  world  at  large. 
They  had  not  been  seated  long  ere  a  loud  rap  sounded 
upon  the  door,  and  when  it  was  opened,  a  man  encased 
in  a  heavy  coat  entered. 

"  Is  Parson  John  here  ?  "  were  his  first  words. 

"  Yes,"  Mr.  Eickhart  replied.     "  He's  in  the  sitting- 


86  THE    FOURTH    WATCH 

room.  Do  you  want  to  see  him?  Is  it  a  wedding, 
Sam  ?     You  look  excited." 

"  Should  say  not.  It's  more  like  a  funeral.  Old 
Tim  Eraser's  met  with  a  bad  accident." 

"  What !  " 

"  Yes.  lie  was  drivin'  home  from  the  river  this 
afternoon,  when  that  new  horse  of  his  shied,  and  then 
bolted.  The  sleigh  gave  a  nasty  slew  on  the  icy  road, 
and  upset.  Tim  was  caught  somehow,  and  dragged 
quite  a  piece.  lie's  badly  broken  up,  and  wants  to  see 
the  parson." 

By  this  time  Mr.  "Westmore  had  crossed  the  room, 
and  stood  before  the  messenger.  A  startled  look  was  in 
his  eves,  as  he  peered  keenly  into  Sam's  face. 

"  Tell  me,  is  it  true  what  I  hear,"  he  questioned, 
"  that  Eraser  has  been  hurt  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir,  and  wants  you  at  once." 

"Is  he  seriously  injured?" 

"  Can't  tell.  They're  goin'  fer  the  doctor,  but  it'll 
be  some  time  before  he  can  get  there.    It's  a  long  way." 

"  Poor  Fraser !  Poor  Fraser !  "  murmured  the  parson. 
"  He  was  a  careless  man.  I  was  bitter  at  him  this  after- 
noon, and  now  he  is  lying  there.  Quick,  Dan,  get  on 
your  coat  and  hat ;  we  must  be  off  at  once." 

It  did  not  take  them  long  to  make  ready,  and  soon 
Midnight  was  speeding  through  the  darkness.  This 
time  it  was  no  leisurely  jog,  but  the  pace  she  well 
knew  how  to  set  when  her  master  was  forth  on  im- 
portant business.  Across  the  river  she  sped,  then  over 
hill  and  valley,  which  echoed  with  the  merry  jingle  of 


BEATING    THE    DEVIL  87 

the  bells.  For  some  time  Parson  John  did  not  speak, 
and  seemed  to  be  intent  solely  upon  Midnight. 

"  Dan,"  he  remarked  at  length,  as  they  wound 
slowly  up  a  steep  hill,  "  it's  a  mean  thing,  isn't  it,  to 
get  many,  many  good  things  from  someone,  and  never 
do  anything  in  return,  and  not  even  to  say  '  Thank 
you  ? '  " 

The  lad  started  at  these  words,  and  but  for  the  dark- 
ness a  flush  would  have  been  seen  upon  his  face.  "  "What 
does  the  parson  mean  ?  "  he  thought.  "  That  was  about 
what  Farrington  said.  To  get,  and  give  nothing  in 
return ;  to  be  a  sucker  and  a  sponger." 

But  the  parson  needed  no  reply.  He  did  not  even 
notice  Dan's  silence. 

"  Yes,"  he  continued ;  "  it's  a  mean  thing.  But  that's 
just  what  Tim  Fraser's  been  doing  all  his  life.  The 
good  Lord  has  given  him  so  many  blessings  of  health, 
home,  fine  wife  and  children,  and  notwithstanding 
all  these  blessings,  he's  been  ever  against  Him.  He 
curses  and  swears,  laughs  at  religion,  and  you  saw  what 
he  did  this  afternoon." 

"  'Tis  mean,  awful  mean,"  Dan  replied,  as  the 
parson  paused,  and  flicked  the  snow  with  his  whip. 
"  But  maybe  he's  sorry,  now,  that  he's  hurt," 

"  Maybe  he  is,  Dan.  But  it's  a  mean  thing  to  give 
the  best  of  life  to  Satan,  and  to  give  the  dregs,  the  last 
few  days,  when  the  body  is  too  weak  to  do  anything,  to 
the  Lord.  And  yet  I  find  that  is  so  often  done,  and 
I'm  afraid  it's  the  case  now." 

."When  they  reached  Fraser's  house  they  found  great 


8S  THE    FOURTH    WATCH 


excitement  within.  Men  and  women  were  moving 
about  the  kitchen  and  sitting-room  trying  to  help,  and 
yet  always  getting  into  one  another's  way.  Midnight 
was  taken  to  the  barn,  Dan  was  led  into  the  kitchen  to 
get  warm,  while  the  parson  went  at  once  to  the  room 
where  Tim  was  lying. 

Dan  shrank  back  in  a  corner,  for  he  felt  much 
abashed  at  the  sight  of  so  many  strangers.  He  wanted 
to  be  alone — to  think  about  what  the  parson  had  said 
coming  along  the  road.  And  so  Fraser  was  a  sponger, 
and  a  sucker  too,  getting  so  many  good  things  and 
giving  nothing  back.  It  was  mean,  and  yet  what  was  he 
himself  but  a  sponger?  What  was  he  doing  for  Xellio 
and  Parson  John  for  what  they  were  doing  for  hinl  ? 
They  gave  him  a  comfortable  home,  fed,  clothed,  and 
taught  him,  and  he  was  doing  nothing  to  pay  them 
back.  ITow  disgusted  his  father  would  be  if  he  only 
knew  about  it. 

For  the  life  of  him  Dan  could  not  have  expressed 
these  feelings  to  anyone.  lie  only  knew  that  they  ran 
through  his  mind  like  lightning,  making  him  feel  very 
miserable.  His  checks  flushed,  and  a  slight  sigh  escaped 
his  lips  as  he  sat  crouched  there  in  the  corner  with  one 
small  hand  supporting  his  chin.  ISTo  one  heeded  him, 
for  all  were  too  much  excited  over  the  accident  to  take 
any  notice  of  a  little  boy. 

"  I  said  that  horse  would  be  the  death  of  him,"  ho 
heard  a  woman  exclaim.  "  Tim's  too  old  a  man  to 
drive  such  a  beast  as  that." 

"  Oh,    the    beast's    all   right,"    an    old    man    slowly 


BEATING    THE    DEVIL  89 

replied,  "  but  it  was  put  to  a  wrong  use,  that's  whore 
the  trouble  came." 

"  Why,  what  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  Don't  you  know  ?  Didn't  you  hear  about  what  hap- 
pened on  the  river  this  afternoon  ?  Tim  went  there  on 
purpose  to  meet  the  parson,  and  strike  up  a  race.  He's 
been  boasting  for  some  time  that  he  would  do  it.  The 
Lord  has  given  that  man  much  rope,  and  has  suffered 
him  long.  But  this  was  too  much,  and  He's  tripped 
him  up  at  last." 

"  Peter  Brown,"  and  the  woman  held  up  her  hands 
in  astonishment,  "  how  can  you  say  such  a  thing  about 
your  old  neighbour,  and  in  his  house,  too,  with  him 
lying  there  in  that  condition  ?  " 

"  I'm  only  saying  what  the  rest  know  and  think," 
was  the  calm  reply.  "  I've  told  Tim  time  and  time 
again  right  to  his  face  that  the  Lord  would  settle  with 
him  some  day.  '  Tim/  said  I,  and  it  was  not  later 
than  last  fall  that  I  said  it,  '  Tim,  the  Lord  has  been 
good  to  you.  He's  blessed  you  in  every  way.  You've 
health,  strength,  and  a  good  home.  And  what  have  you 
done  for  Him?  V\That  have  you  eiven  in  return? 
Nothing.  You  curse,  revile  and  scorn  Him  on  the 
slightest  pretext.  It's  not  only  mean,  Tim,  but  you'll 
get  punished  some  day,  and  don't  you  forget  it.'  But 
he  only  swore  at  me,  and  told  me  to  shut  up  and  mind 
my  own  business  and  he  would  mind  his.  But  my 
words  have  come  true,  and  I  guess  Tim  sees  it  at  last." 

Dan  was  sitting  bolt  upright  now,  with  his  hands 
clenched  and  eyes  staring  hard  at  the  speaker.     The 


90  THE    FOURTH    WATCH 

words  had  gone  straight  to  his  little  heart,  with  terrihle, 
stinging  intensity.  This  man  was  saying  what  Far- 
rington  and  the  parson  had  said.  It  must  be  true.  But 
the  idea  of  the  punishment  was  something  new.  He 
had  never  thought  of  that  before. 

And  even  as  he  looked,  a  silence  spread  throughout 
the  room,  for  Parson  John  was  standing  in  the  door- 
way. Upon  his  face  an  expression  dwelt  which  awed 
more  than  many  words,  and  all  at  once  realized  that  tho 
venerable  man  had  just  stepped  from  the  solemn  cham- 
ber of  Death. 


CHAPTER  X 

m  camp 

Nr  ESTLIKG  snugly  among  large  stately  trees  of 
pine  and  spruce,  the  little  log-cabin  presented  a 
picturesque  appearance.  Its  one  room,  lighted 
by  a  small  window,  served  as  kitchen,  living  and  sleep- 
ing apartments  combined.  It  was  warm,  for  the  rough 
logs  were  well  chinked  with  moss,  while  the  snow  lay 
thick  upon  the  roof  and  banked  up  around  the  sides. 
This  cabin  had  been  recently  built,  and  stood  there  by 
the  little  brook  as  an  outward  and  visible  sign  of  an 
inward  change  in  the  heart  and  mind  of  one  of  Glen- 
dow's  sturdy  sons. 

The  night  Stephen  Frenelle  left  Nellie  at  the  Rec- 
tory after  the  drive  home  from  the  dance,  he  had  fought 
one  of  those  stern,  fierce  battles  which  must  come  to 
all  at  some  time  in  life.  As  Jacob  of  old  wrestled  all 
night  long  for  the  mastery,  so  did  Stephen  in  the  silence 
of  his  own  room.  Sleep  fled  his  eyes  as  he  paced  up 
and  down,  struggling  with  the  contending  thoughts 
which  filled  his  heart.  At  times  he  clenched  his  hand3 
and  ground  his  teeth  together  as  he  pictured  Dick  Far- 
rington  standing  in  the  Hall,  hurling  forth  his  taunting 
remarks.  Then  he  longed  for  daylight  to  come  that  he 
might  go  to  his  house,  call  him  forth,  and  give  him  the 

91 


92  THE    FOUKTH    WATCH 

thrashing  he  so  well  deserved.  He  would  drive  that 
impudent,  sarcastic  smile  from  his  face,  and  make  him 
take  back  his  words.  A  voice  seemed  to  say  to  him, 
"  Do  it.  You  must  do  it  if  you  consider  yourself  a 
man.  He  insulted  you  to  your  face,  and  people  will 
call  you  a  coward  if  you  allow  it  to  pass."  But  always 
there  came  to  him  that  gentle  touch  on  his  arm;  he 
heard  a  voice  pleading  with  him  to  be  a  man,  and  saw 
Nellie  looking  at  him  with  those  large,  beseeching  eyes, 
and  his  clenched  hands  would  relax.  And  thus  the 
battle  raged ;  now  this  way,  now  that.  Which  side 
would  win  ?  When  at  length  the  first  streak  of  dawn 
was  breaking  far  oif  in  the  eastern  sky,  and  Stephen 
came  forth  from  the  Chamber  of  Decision,  there  was 
no  doubt  as  to  the  outcome  of  the  fight.  His  face  bore 
the  marks  of  the  struggle,  but  it  also  shone  with  a  new 
light.  When  his  mother  and  !Nora  came  downstairs 
they  were  astonished  to  see  him  up  so  early,  the  fire  in 
the  kitchen  stove  burning  brightly,  and  the  cattle  and 
sheep  fed.  Usually  Stephen  was  hard  to  arouse  in  the 
morning,  and  it  was  nearly  noon  before  the  chores  were 
finished,  and  then  always  in  a  half-hearted  way.  They 
looked  at  each  other,  and  wondered  at  the  change  which 
had  taken  place. 

Although  Stephen  had  won  a  victory  over  himself, 
he  was  yet  much  puzzled.  He  wished  to  redeem  the 
homestead,  but  how  should  he  set  about  the  task  ?  As 
he  waited  that  morning  while  breakfast  was  being 
prepared,  this  was  the  great  thought  uppermost  in  his 
mind.     He  knew  that  when  spring  came  there  was  the 


IN    CAMP  93 

farm  to  work.  In  the  meantime,  however,  during  the 
days  of  winter  when  the  ground  was  covered  with  snow, 
what  could  he  do  ?  Once  aroused,  it  was  needful  for 
him  to  set  to  work  as  soon  as  possible.  Mechanically 
he  picked  up  the  weekly  paper  lying  on  a  chair  and 
glanced  carelessly  at  the  headlines  set  forth  in  bold  type. 
As  he  did  so  his  attention  was  arrested  by  two  words 
"  Logs  Wanted."  He  read  the  article  through  which 
told  how  the  price  of  lumber  had  suddenly  advanced, 
and  that  logs  were  in  great  demand.  When  Stephen 
laid  down  the  paper  and  went  into  breakfast,  the  puzzle 
had  been  solved.  What  about  that  heavy  timber  at  the 
rear  of  their  farm  ?  Xo  axe  had  as  yet  rung  there,  no 
fire  had  devastated  the  place,  and  the  trees  stood  tall 
and  straight  in  majestic  grandeur.  A  brook  flowed 
near  which  would  bear  the  logs  down  the  river. 

His  mother's  and  sister's  hearts  bounded  with  joy 
as  Stephen  unfolded  to  them  his  plan.  He  would  hire 
two  choppers ;  one  could  go  home  at  night,  while  the 
other,  old  Henry,  could  live  with  him  in  the  little 
camp  he  would  build.  They  would  chop  while  he 
hauled  the  logs  to  the  brook.  Mrs.  Frenelle  and  ISTora 
would  do  most  of  the  cooking  at  home,  and  Stephen 
would  come  for  it  at  certain  times.  Thus  a  new  spirit 
pervaded  the  house  that  day,  and  Mrs.  Frenelle's  heart 
was  lighter  than  it  had  been  for  many  months.  Stephen 
did  not  tell  her  the  cause  of  this  sudden  change,  but 
with  a  loving  mother's  perception  she  felt  that  Xellie's 
gentle  influence  had  much  to  do  with  it  all. 

One  week  later  the  cabin  was  built,  the  forest  ring- 


94  THE    FOURTII    WATCH 

ing  with  the  sturdy  blows  of  axes  and  the  resounding 
crash  of  some  hoary  pine  or  spruce.  Although  the 
work  was  heavy,  Stephen's  heart  was  light.  Not  only 
did  he  feel  the  zest  of  one  who  had  grappled  with  life 
in  the  noble  effort  to  do  the  best  he  could,  but  he  had 
Nellie's  approbation.  lie  drank  in  the  bracing  air  of 
the  open  as  never  before,  and  revelled  in  the  rich  per- 
fume of  the  various  trees  as  he  moved  along  their  great 
cathedral-like  aisles,  carpeted  with  the  whitest  of 
snow. 

The  two  choppers  were  kept  busy  from  morning  dawn 
to  sunset.  They  were  skilled  craftsmen,  trained  from 
early  days  in  woodland  lore.  One,  old  Ilenry,  thor- 
oughly enjoyed  his  work  and  at  times  snatches  of  ft 
familiar  song  fell  from  his  lips  as  his  axe  bit  deep  into 
the  side  of  some  large  tree. 

"  You  did  that  well,  Ilenry,"  Stephen  one  day  re- 
marked, as  he  watched  a  monster  spruce  wing  its  way 
to  earth  with  a  terrific  crash. 

"  It's  all  in  knowin'  how,"  was  the  deliberate  reply, 
as  the  old  man  began  to  trim  the  prostrate  form.  "  Now, 
a  greenhorn  'ud  rush  in,  an'  hack  an'  chop  any  old 
way,  an'  afore  he  knew  what  he  was  doin'  the  tree  'ud 
be  tumblin'  down  in  the  wrong  place,  an'  mebbe  right 
a-top  of  'im  at  that.  But  I  size  things  up  a  bit  afore  I 
hit  a  clip.  Ilavin'  made  up  me  mind  as  to  the  best 
spot  to  fell  her,  I  swing  to,  an'  whar  I  pint  her  thar 
she  goes;  that's  all  thar  is  about  it." 

"But  doesn't  the  wind  bother  you  sometimes!" 
Stephen  inquired. 


IN    CAMP  95 

The  chopper  walked  deliberately  to  the  butt-end  o£ 
the  tree,  and  with  the  pole  of  his  axe  marked  off  the 
length  of  the  log.  Then  he  moistened  his  hands  and 
drove  the  keen  blade  through  the  juicy  bark  deep  into 
the  wood. 

"  I  allow  fer  the  wind,  laddie/'  he  replied,  "  I  allow 
fer  that.  When  the  good  Lord  sends  the  wind,  some- 
times from  the  North,  sometimes  from  the  South,  I 
don't  go  agin  it.  Why,  what's  the  use  of  goin'  agin 
His  will,  an'  it's  all  the  same  whether  yer  choppin' 
down  a  tree,  or  runnin'  across  the  sea  of  Life  fer  the 
great  Port  beyon'.  That's  what  the  parson  says,  an'  I 
guess  he  knows,  though  it  seems  to  me  that  the  poor 
man  hisself  has  head-winds  aplenty  jist  now." 

Stephen  asked  no  more  questions  then,  being  too 
busy.  But  that  night,  after  supper,  as  the  old  man  was 
mending  his  mittens  he  sat  down  by  his  side. 

"  Henry,"  he  began,  "  how  is  it  that  the  parson  has 
head-winds  ?    Do  you  think  it's  the  Lord's  will  ?  " 

"  'Tain't  the  Lord's  will,  laddie,"  was  the  slow 
response.     "  Oh  no,  'tain't  His." 

"  Whose,  then  ?  " 

"  It's  the  devil's,  that's  whose  it  is,  an'  he's  usm* 
sartin  men  in  Glendow  as  human  bellows  to  blow  his 
vile  wind  aginst  that  man  of  God.  That's  what  he's 
doin',  an'  they  can't  see  it  nohow." 

"  And  so  you  think  the  parson  had  nothing  to  do 
with  Billy  Fletcher's  gold.  Tou  think  he  is  in- 
nocent ?  " 

■"  Think  it,  laddie  ?     Think  it  ?     What's  the  use  of 


06  THE    FOURTH    WATCH 

thinkin'  it  when  I  know  it.  Haven't  I  known  Parson 
John  for  forty  years  now.  Can't  I  well  remember 
when  his  hair,  which  is  now  so  white,  was  as  black  as 
the  raven's  wing.  An'  why  did  it  become  white?  I  ax 
ye  that.  It's  not  old  age  which  done  it,  ah  no.  It's 
care  an'  work  fer  the  people  of  Glendow,  that's  what's 
done  it.  D'ye  think  I'd  believe  any  yarn  about  a  man 
that's  been  mor'n  a  father  to  me  an'  my  family  ?  Didn't 
I  see  'im  kneelin'  by  my  little  Bennie's  bed,  twenty 
years  ago  come  next  June,  with  the  tears  runnin'  down 
his  cheeks  as  he  axed  the  Good  Lord  to  spare  the  littlo 
lad  to  us  a  while  longer.  Mark  my  word,  Stevie,  them 
people  who  are  tellin'  sich  stories  about  that  man  'ill 
come  to  no  good.  Doesn't  the  Lord  say  in  his  great 
Book,  '  Touch  not  Mine  anointed,  an'  do  My  prophets 
no  harm  ? '  My  old  woman  often  reads  them  words  to 
me,  fer  she's  a  fine  scholar  is  Marthy.  '  Henry,'  says 
she,  '  the  parson  is  the  Lord's  anointed.  He's  sot  aside 
fer  a  holy  work,  an'  it's  a  risky  bizness  to  interfere  with 
eich  a  man.'  " 

Scarcely  had  the  speaker  finished  when  the  door  of 
the  cabin  was  pushed  suddenly  open,  and  a  queer  little 
man  entered.  A  fur  cap  was  pulled  down  over  his  ears, 
while  across  his  left  shoulder  and  fastened  around  his 
body  several  times  was  a  new  half-inch  rope. 

"  Hello,  Pete,"  Stephen  exclaimed,  "  You  look  cold. 
Come  to  the  stove  and  get  warm." 

"  Y'bet  I'm  cold,"  was  the  reply.  "  My  fingers  and 
nose  are  most  froze." 

"  What's  brought  you  away  out  here  this  time  of  the 


IN    CAMP  97 

night  ?  "  questioned  Stephen.  "  I  thought  you  liked 
the  store  too  well  to  travel  this  far  from  the 
fire." 

"  Bizness,  Steve,  bizness,"  and  the  man  rubbed  his 
hands  together,  at  the  same  time  taking  a  good  survey 
of  the  cabin. 

"  You  look  as  if  you  were  going  to  hang  yourself, 
Pete,  with  all  that  rope  about  your  body.  Surely  you're 
not  tired  of  living  yet." 

"  ]STo,  no,  Steve.  ISTot  on  your  life.  There'd  be  no 
fun  in  that,  an'  it's  fun  I'm  after  this  time." 

"  But  I  thought  you  said  you  were  out  on  business, 
and  now  you  say  it's  fun." 

"  Bizness  an'  fun,  me  boy.  Bizness  an'  fun ;  that's 
my  motto.  My  bizness  this  time  is  to  pinch  the  Stickles' 
cow,  an'  the  fun  'ill  be  to  hear  Stickles,  Mrs.  Stickles 
an'  the  little  Stickles  squeal.  Ha,  ha !  Bizness  an'  fun, 
Steve.     Bizness  an'  fun." 

"  "What !  You're  not  going  to  take  away  the  only 
cow  the  Stickles  have  left  %  "  cried  Stephen  in  amaze- 
ment. 

"  Sure.  It's  the  boss's  orders,  an'  he  doesn't  mean 
fun,  either.  Nuthin'  but  bizness  with  'im;  ah  no, 
nuthin'  but  bizness." 

"  Farrington  is  a  mean  rascal !  "  and  Stephen  leaped 
to  his  feet,  his  fists  clenched  and  his  eyes  flashing. 
"  Hasn't  he  any  heart  at  all  ?  To  think  of  him  taking 
the  only  cow  from  a  poor  family  when  the  husband  is 
sick  in  bed  !     "What  does  the  man  mean  ?  " 

"  Don't  git  excited,  me  boy.     It's  only  bizness,  boss 


98  THE    FOURTH    WATCH 

sez,  only  bizness.  The  heart  has  nuthin'  to  do  with 
that." 

"  Business  be  blowed !  It's  vile  meanness,  that's 
what  it  is !  And  will  you  help  him  out  with  such 
work?" 

"  It's  bizness  agin,  Steve.  I've  got  to  live,  an'  keep 
the  missus  an'  kiddies.  "What  else  is  there  fer  a  feller 
to  do  ?  " 

"  But  why  is  Farrington  taking  the  cow  in  the  winter 
time,  Pete?  Why  doesn't  he  wait  until  the  summer, 
and  give  the  Stickles  a  chance  ?  " 

"  It  all  on  account  of  a  woman's  tongue.  That's 
what's  the  trouble." 

"  A  woman's  tongue  ?  " 

"  Yes,  a  woman's  tongue,  an'  ye  know  it's  !M"rs. 
Stickles'  without  me  tellin'  ye.  She  told  Tommy  Jones, 
wot  told  Hetty  Sharp,  wot  told  the  boss,  that  she  was 
mighty  glad  the  parson  beat  'im  at  the  auction.  So 
the  boss  got  mad  as  blazes,  an'  has  sent  me  fer  the  cow 
to  pay  what  the  Stickles  owe  'im.  That's  all  I  know 
about  it,  lad,  so  good-bye  to  yez  both,  fer  I  must  be  off. 
I'm  to  stay  the  night  at  Tommy  Jones',  an'  in  the  morn- 
in'  will  go  from  there  fer  the  cow.  Bizness  an'  fun, 
Steve;  biznoss  an'  fun;  don't  fergit  that,"  and  the  little 
old  man  went  off  chuckling  in  high  glee. 


CHAPTER   XI 
GUARDING  THE  FLOCK 

IT  was  Hearing  the  noon  hour,  and  the  sun  slanting 
through  the  forest  lifted  into  bold  relief  the  trailing 
shadows  of  the  stately  trees.  A  lively  chickadee 
was  cheeping  from  a  tall  spruce,  and  a  hold  camp- 
robber  was  hopping  in  front  of  the  cabin  door  picking 
up  morsels  of  food  which  were  occasionally  cast  forth. 
Stephen  was  preparing  dinner,  and  the  appetizing 
smell  drifted  out  upon  the  air.  "Not  far  away,  perched 
upon  the  branch  of  a  tree,  a  sleek  squirrel  was  filling 
the  air  with  his  noisy  chattering  and  scolding.  His 
bright  little  eyes  sparkled  with  anger  at  the  big  strange 
intruder  into  his  domain,  causing  him  to  pour  forth  all 
the  vitriol  of  the  squirrel  vocabulary.  Suddenly  his 
noisy  commotion  ceased,  and  he  lifted  his  head  in  a 
listening  attitude.  Presently  down  the  trail  leading 
to  the  main  highway  the  sound  of  bells  could  be  dis- 
tinctly heard.  As  they  drew  nearer  their  music  filled 
the  air,  reverberating  from  hill  to  hill  and  pulsing 
among  the  countless  reaches  of  the  great  sombre  forest. 
Not  a  child  in  the  parish  of  Glendow  but  knew  that 
familiar  sound,  and  would  rush  eagerly  into  the  house 
with  the  welcome  tidings,  for  did  it  not  mean  a  piece  of 
candy  hidden  away  in  most  mysterious  pockets,  which. 

90 


100  THE    FOURTH    WATCH 

seemed  never  to  be  empty  ?  How  often  in  the  deep  of 
night  tired  sleepers  in  some  lonely  farm-house  had 
been  awakened  by  their  merry  jingle,  and  in  the 
morning  husband  and  wife  would  discuss  the  matter 
and  wonder  what  sick. person  Parson  John  had  been 
visiting. 

The  bells  grew  more  distinct  now  and  brought 
Stephen  to  the  door.  Soon  Midnight  appeared  swing- 
ing around  a  bend  in  the  trail,  with  her  fine  neck 
proudly  arched,  ears  pointed  forward,  and  her  large 
eyes  keen  with  expectancy.  The  squirrel  scurried  away 
in  a  rage ;  the  chickadee  hopped  to  a  safe  retreat,  and 
even  the  saucy  camp-robber  considered  it  wise  to  flap 
lazily  to  the  top  of  the  cabin. 

"  I'm  glad  to  sec  you,  Stephen,"  was  Parson  John's 
hearty  greeting  as  he  held  out  his  hand.  "Dan  and  I 
are  on  our  way  to  visit  the  Stickles,  and  called  in  to  see 
you  in  passing.  What  a  snug  place  you  have  built 
here.     I  trust  you  are  getting  along  nicely." 

"  Better  than  I  expected,"  was  the  reply.  "  But, 
say,  Parson,  you're  just  in  time  for  dinner.  Let  me 
put  Midnight  in  the  barn.  She  won't  object,  at  any 
rate." 

"  What !  is  it  that  late  ?  "  and  the  worthy  man  glanced 
at  the  sun.  "  Dear  me,  how  the  time  does  fly !  Well, 
then,  if  we  will  not  be  in  the  way  I  shall  enjoy  it  very 
much,  for  it  has  been  many  a  day  since  I  have  dined 
in  the  woods.  But,  wait,"  he  cried,  as  Stephen  was 
leading  Midnight  to  the  stable,  "  There's  a  basket  of 
stuff,  some  pies,  and  I  don't  know  what  else,  in  the 


GUARDING    THE    FLOCK  101 

sleigh  for  hardy  woodsmen,  with  Nellie's  compliments. 
No,  no,  not  that  basket.  It's  for  the  Stickles.  The 
smaller  one;  I  think  you'll  find  it  in  the  hack  of  the 
sleigh.  There,  that's  it,  with  the  green  handle.  It 
takes  a  large  basket  for  all  the  little  Stickles !  "  and  the 
parson  gave  a  hearty  laugh. 

What  a  dinner  they  had  in  the  little  cabin  that  day. 
Never  did  meat  taste  so  good,  and  never  did  pie  have 
such  a  delicious  flavour  as  that  which  Nellie  had  made. 
The  table  and  stools  were  rough,  the  food  served  on 
coarse  dishes,  and  each  one  helped  himself.  But  what 
did  it  matter  ?  Their  appetites  were  keen  and  the 
parson  a  most  entertaining  visitor.  He  told  about  the 
race  on  the  river  the  day  before,  and  of  Tim  Eraser's 
accident  and  sudden  death,  to  which  the  choppers 
listened  with  almost  breathless  interest,  at  times  giving 
vent  to  ejaculations  of  surprise. 

"  I'm  sorry  we  have  no  milk  to  offer  you,"  laughed 
Stephen,  passing  the  parson  a  cup  of  black  tea.  "  But 
at  any  minute  now  a  cow  may  be  passing  this  way  and 
we  might  be  able  to  obtain  some." 

"  A  cow  passing !  I  don't  understand,"  and  Mr. 
Westmore  stirred  the  sugar  in  his  tea. 

"  Yes.  The  Stickles  are  losing  their  only  cow.  Far- 
rington  has  sent  Pete  after  her,  and  he  should  be  along 
by  this  time." 

"  Stephen,"  and  Parson  John's  face  changed  from 
its  genial  expression  to  one  of  severity,  "  do  I  under- 
stand you  aright  ?  Do  you  mean  to  tell  me  that  Far- 
rington  is  taking  the  Stickles'  only  cow  ?  " 


102  THE    FOURTH    WATCH 

"  Yes,  I'm  not  joking.  It's  the  solid  truth.  Pete 
stopped  here  on  his  way  out  last  night,  and  told  us  all 
about  it." 

"  Dear  me!  dear  me!  "  sighed  the  parson,  placing  his 
hand  to  his  head.  "  When  will  that  man  cease  to  be  a 
thorn  in  the  flesh?  The  Stickles  are  as  honest  as  the 
sun,  and  Farrington  knows  it.  This  business  must  be 
stopped.  Dan  will  you  please  bring  out  Midnight. 
We  must  hurry  away  at  once." 

Soon  the  little  cabin  was  left  behind  and  they  were 
swinging  out  along  the  trail.  The  parson  was  quiet 
now.  His  old  jocular  spirit  had  departed,  leaving  him 
very  thoughtful. 

"The  poor  people!  The  poor  people!"  he  ejacu- 
lated. "  When  will  such  things  cease  ?  Why  will  men 
dressed  in  a  little  brief  authority  try  to  crush  those 
less  fortunate  ?  Dan,  my  boy,  you  may  be  a  big  man 
some  day.  You  may  get  money,  but  never  forget  the 
poor.  Be  kind  to  them  rather  than  to  the  powerful. 
They  need  kindness  and  sympathy,  lad,  more  than 
others.  My  parents  were  poor,  and  I  know  how  they 
toiled  and  slaved  to  give  me  an  education.  I  well 
remember  how  they  worked  early  and  late  until  their 
fingers  were  knotted  and  their  backs  bowed.  They  are 
1  the  noble  ones  who  live  in  our  midst,  and  though  they 
may  have  little  of  this  world's  goods,  they  have  great 
souls  and  are  the  real  salt  of  the  earth.  Xever  forget 
that,  boy." 

Dan  did  not  know  how  to  reply  to  these  words,  but 
sat  very  still  watching  Midnight  speeding  on  her  way. 


GUARDING    THE    FLOCK  103 

The  road  wound  for  some  distance  through  a  wooded 
region  and  over  several  hills.  At  length  it  entered  upon 
a  settlement  where  the  land  was  lean  and  rocks  lifted 
their  frowning  heads  ahove  the  surface.  The  few 
houses  were  poor,  standing  out  grey  and  gaunt  in  the 
midst  of  this  weird  harrenness.  But  at  every  door  Mid- 
night was  accustomed  to  stop.  "Well  did  she  know  the 
little  voices  which  welcomed  her,  and  the  tiny  hands 
which  stroked  her  soft  nose,  or  held  up  some  dainty 
morsel  of  bread,  potatoes  or  grass.  But  to-day  there 
was  none  of  this.  She  knew  when  the  reins  throbbed 
with  an  energy  which  meant  hurry.  Past  the  gateways 
she  clipped  with  those  long  steady  strides  over  the  icy 
road,  across  a  bleak  stretch  of  country,  down  a  valley, 
up  a  winding  hill,  and  then  away  to  the  right  through 
a  long  narrow  lane  to  a  lone  farm-house. 

As  they  approached  a  commotion  was  observed  near 
the  barn.  Soon  the  cause  was  clearly  manifest.  Pete, 
assisted  by  someone,  who  proved  to  be  Tommy  Jones, 
had  his  rope  about  the  horns  of  a  black  and  white  cow, 
and  was  endeavouring  to  lead  her  away.  Mrs.  Stickles 
and  four  little  Stickles  were  filling  the  air  with  their 
cries  of  anger  and  protest.  The  cow,  frightened  by  the 
noise,  had  become  confused,  and  was  trying  to  bolt 
towards  the  barn.  Pete  was  tugging  at  the  rope,  while 
his  assistant  was  belabouring  her  with  a  stout  stick. 

"  Ye  brutes !  "  Mrs.  Stickles  was  shouting  at  the  top 
of  her  voice.  "  What  d'yez  mean  by  thumpin'  me  poor 
Pansy  in  that  way !  But  here  comes  the  Lord's  avengin' 
angel,   praise  His  holy  name !     Stop  'em,   Parson !  " 


104  THE    FOURTH    WATCH 

she  shrieked,  rushing  towards  the  sleigh.  M  Smite  'em 
down,  Parson,  an'  pray  the  Lord  to  turn  His  hottest 
thunderbolt  upon  Si  Farrington's  head !  " 

"  Hush,  hush,  woman,"  Mr.  Westmore  remonstrated. 
"  Don't  talk  that  way.  '  Vengeance  is  mine,  saith  the 
Lord.     I  will  repay.'  " 

By  this  time  the  refractory  cow  had  been  brought  to 
a  state  of  partial  subjection,  and  stood  blinking  at  her 
captors  as  if  uncertain  what  course  to  pursue.  Leaving 
the  sleigh,  Mr.  Westmore  strode  over  to  where  the  three 
were  standing  and  laid  his  hand  upon  the  rope. 

"What's  the  meaning  of  this,  Pete?"  he  asked. 
"  Why  are  you  troubling  this  family?  " 

"  It's  them  that's  troublin'  me,  sir,"  was  the  reply. 
"I'm  jist  here  on  bizness,  an'  it's  bizness  I  mean.  If 
yell  jist  keep  that  whirlwind  of  a  woman  away  an' 
them  squaking  kids  so  I  kin  git  this  cratur  clear  of  the 
barn-yard,  she'll  walk  like  a  daisy." 

"  But  why  are  you  taking  the  animal  ?  Don't  you 
know  it's  their  only  cow,  and  it's  very  important  that 
Mr.  Stickles,  who  is  sick  in  bed,  should  have  fresh  milk 
every  day  ?  " 

"  That's  not  my  bizness,  Parson.  My  bizness  is  to 
git  the  cow ;  so  stand  clear  if  ye  pleaso,  fer  I  want  to  git 
away.     I'm  late  as  'tis." 

"  Hold  a  minute,  Pete,"  and  the  parson  laid  a  firmer 
hand  upon  the  rope.  "  Who  sent  you  here  after  this 
cow?" 

"  The  boss,  of  course." 

"  Mr.  Farrington  ?  " 


GUARDING    THE    FLOCK  1105 

"  Sure." 

"  And  he  wants  the  cow  in  payment  of  a  deht,  does 
he?" 

"  Guess  so.  But  that  ain't  none  of  my  bizness.  My 
bizness  is  to  git  the  cow." 

"  How  much  is  the  debt,  anyway  ? "  the  parson 
asked,  turning  to  Mrs.  Stickles,  who  was  standing  near 
with  arms  akimbo. 

"  Twenty  dollars,  sir.  "No  mor'n  twenty  dollars. 
"Not  one  cent  more,  an'  Tony'll  pay  every  cent  when 
he  comes  from  the  woods." 

"  Well,  then,  Pete,"  and  the  parson  turned  towards 
the  latter,  "  unfasten  this  cow,  and  go  back  to  your 
master.  Tell  him  that  I  will  be  responsible  for  the 
debt,  and  that  he  shall  have  the  full  amount  as  soon  as 
I  get  home." 

But  Pete  shook  his  head,  and  began  to  gather  up  the 
loose  end  of  the  rope  into  a  little  coil  in  his  left  hand. 

"  That  ain't  the  boss's  order,  sir.  '  Fetch  her,  Pete,' 
sez  he,  '  an'  let  nuthin'  stop  ye.  If  they  hev  the  money 
to  pay,  don't  take  it.  The  cow's  of  more  value  to  me 
than  money.'    Them's  his  very  orders." 

"  Oh,  I  see,  I  see,"  Mr.  Westmore  remarked,  as  a 
stern  look  crossed  his  face,  and  his  eyes  flashed  with 
indignation.  "  It's  not  the  money  your  master  wants, 
but  only  the  pound  of  flesh." 

"  Boss  didn't  say  nuthin'  'bout  any  pound  of  flesh. 
He  only  said  '  the  cow,'  an'  the  cow  he'll  git  if  Pete 
Davis  knows  anything." 

Quick  as  a  flash  Parson  John's  hand  dove  deep  into 


106  THE    FOURTH    WATCH 

his  capacious  pocket.  ITc  whipped  out  a  clasp-knife, 
opened  it,  and  with  one  vigorous  stroke  severed  the  rope 
about  one  foot  from  the  cow's  head. 

"  There !  "  he  cried  to  the  staring,  gaping  Pete. 
"  Take  that  rope  to  your  master,  and  tell  him  what  I 
have  done.  Leave  the  matter  to  me.  I  alone  will  be 
responsible  for  this  deed." 

The  appearance  of  Mr.  Westmore  at  this  moment  was 
enough  to  awe  even  the  most  careless.  His  gigantic 
form  was  drawn  to  its  fullest  height.  His  flashing  eyes, 
turned  full  upon  Pete's  face,  caused  that  obsequious 
menial  to  fall  back  a  step  or  two.  Even  a  blow  from  the 
parson's  clenched  fist  just  then  would  not  have  been  a 
surprise.  His  spirit  at  this  moment  was  that  of  the 
prophets  of  old,  and  even  of  the  Great  Master  Himself, 
upholding  justice  and  defending  the  cause  of  the  poor 
and  down-trodden. 

For  an  instant  only  they  faced  each  other.  Then. 
Pete's  eyes  dropped  as  the  eyes  of  an  abashed  dog  before 
his  master.  lie  stooped  for  the  rope,  which  had  fallen 
to  the  ground,  and  slowly  gathered  it  into  a  little  coil. 
But  still  he  maintained  his  ground. 

"  Are  you  going  ?  "  demanded  the  parson. 

"  Yes,"  came  the  surly  response.  "  I'm  goin',  but 
remember  you  hev  interfered  with  Si  Farrington's  law- 
ful bizness,  so  beware !  I'll  go  an'  tell  'im  what  ye  say. 
Oh,  yes,  I'll  go,  but  you'll  hear  from  'im  again.  Oh, 
yes,  ye'll  hear." 

"  Let  'im  come  'imself  next  time  fer  the  cow,"  spoke 
up  Mrs.  Stickles,  who  had  been  silently  watching  the 


GUARDING    THE    FLOCK  107 

proceedings.  "  I'd  like  fer  'im  to  come.  I'd  like  to  git 
me  fingers  into  his  hair  an'  across  his  nasty,  scrawny 
face.     That's  what  I'd  like  to  do." 

"  Hold  yer  tongue !  "  shouted  Pete,  "  an'—" 
"  There  now,    no   more   of  that,"   commanded   Mr. 
Westmore.     "  We've  had  too  many  words  already,  so 
take  yourself  off." 

They  watched  him  as  he  moved  down  the  lane  to  the 
road.  He  was  followed  by  Tommy  Jones,  who  had 
stood  through  it  all  with  mouth  wide  open,  and  eyes 
staring  with  astonishment.  When  they  were  at  length 
clear  of  the  place  the  parson  gave  a  sigh  of  relief,  and 
across  his  face  flitted  a  smile — like  sunshine  after 
storm. 


CHAPTER    XII 
LIGHT  AND  SnADOW 

UPOX  entering  the  house  Mr.  "Westmore  divested 
himself  of  his  great-coat,  and  stood  warming 
himself  by  the  kitchen  fire,  while  Mrs.  Stickles 
bustled  around,  smoothing  down  the  bedclothes  and 
putting  the  room  to  rights  in  which  her  sick  husband 
lay.  The  kitchen  floor  was  as  white  as  human  hands 
could  make  it,  and  the  stove  shone  like  polished  ebony. 
Upon  this  a  kettle  steamed,  while  underneath  a  sleek 
Maltese  cat  was  curled,  softly  purring  in  calm  content. 
Dan,  assisted  by  the  little  Stickles,  stabled  Mid- 
night, after  which  he  was  conducted  over  to  the  back 
of  the  barn  to  enjoy  the  pleasure  of  coasting  down 
an  icy  grade.  The  only  sound,  therefore,  was  Mrs. 
Stickles'  voice  in  the  next  room  as  she  related  to  "  her 
man  "  the  wonderful  events  which  had  just  taken  place. 
A  slight  smile  of  pleasure  crossed  the  parson's  face  ag 
he  listened  to  her  words  and  thought  of  the  big  honest" 
heart  beneath  that  marvellous  tongue.  The  sun  of  the 
winter  day  was  streaming  through  the  little  window  and 
falling  athwart  the  foot  of  the  bed  as  Mr.  Westmore 
entered  the  room  and  grasped  the  sick  man's  white,  out- 
stretched hand. 

108 


LIGHT    AND    SHADOW  109 

"  God  bless  ye,  sir,"  exclaimed  Mr.  Stickles,  "  fer 
what  ye  liev  done  fer  me  an'  mine  to-day.  It  ain't  the 
first  time  by  a  long  chalk.  The  Lord  will  reward  ye, 
even  if  I  can't." 

"  Tut,  tut,  man,  don't  mention  it,"  Mr.  Westmore 
replied  as  he  took  a  seat  by  the  bed.  "  And  how  are  you 
feeling  to-day,  Mr.  Stickles  \  " 

"  Only  middlin',  Parson,  only  middlin'.  Simply 
joggin',  simply  joggin'." 

Mrs.  Stickles  seated  herself  in  a  splint-bottomed 
chair,  and  picked  up  her  knitting  which  had  been 
hurriedly  dropped  upon  the  arrival  of  Pete  Davis. 
How  her  fingers  did  work !  It  was  wonderful  to  watch 
them.  How  hard  and  worn  they  were,  and  yet  so 
nimble.  The  needles  flew  with  lightning  rapidity, 
clicking  against  one  another  with  a  rhythmical  cadence ; 
the  music  of  humble,  consecrated  work.  But  when  Mr. 
"Westmore  began  to  tell  about  Tim  Fraser,  and  his 
sudden  death,  the  knitting  dropped  into  her  lap,  and  she 
stared  at  the  speaker  with  open-eyed  astonishment. 

"  An'  do  ye  mean  to  tell  me,"  she  exclaimed, 
when  the  parson  had  finished,  "  that  Tim  Eraser  is 
dead  ?  " 

"  Yes,  it's  only  too  true,  Mrs.  Stickles.  Poor  man — 
poor  man !  " 

"  Ye  may  well  call  'ini  poor,  Parson,  fer  I'm  thinkin' 
that's  jist  what  he  is  at  this  blessed  minute.  He's  in  a 
bad  way  now,  I  reckon." 

"  Hush,  hush,  Marthy,"  her  husband  remonstrated. 
""We  must  not  judge  too  harshly." 


110  THE    FOURTH    WATCH 

"  I'm  not,  John,  I'm  not,  an'  the  parson  knows 
I'm  not.  But  if  Tim  isn't  sizzlin',  then  the  Bible's 
clean  wrong,"  and  the  needles  clicked  harder  than 
ever. 

"  It  teaches  us  the  uncertainty  of  life,"  replied  Mr. 
Westmoro.  "  It  shows  how  a  man  with  great  strength 
and  health  can  he  stricken  down  in  an  instant.  How 
important  it  is  to  be  always  ready  when  the  call  does 
come." 

"  Ye're  right,  Parson,  ye're  surely  right,"  and  Mrs. 
Stickles  stopped  to  count  her  stitches.  "  Wasn't  John 
an'  me  talkin'  about  that  only  last  night.  I  was  readin' 
the  Bible  to  'im,  an'  had  come  to  that  story  about  poor 
old  Samson,  an'  his  hard  luck." 

"  '  It's  very  strange/  sez  John,  sez  he  to  me,  '  that 
when  Samson  lost  his  hair  he  lost  his  great  strength,  too. 
1  tan't  unnerstan'  it  nohow.'  " 

"  t  Why,  that's  simple  enough,'  sez  I  to  'im.  '  The 
Lord  when  He  let  Samson's  strength  rest  in  his  hair 
jist  wanted  to  teach  'im  how  unsartin  a  thing  strength 
is.  '  Why,  anyone  can  cut  off  yer  hair,'  sez  I,  '  an'  ye 
know,  John,'  sez  I,  '  ye  don't  alius  have  to  cut  it  off, 
either,  for  it  falls  out  like  yourn,  John — fer  yer  almost 
bald.'  Ain't  them  the  exact  words  I  said,  John,  an'  oidy 
last  night  at  that  ?  " 

"  Yes,  Marthy.  That's  just  what  ye  said,  an'  we  see 
how  true  it  is.  Tim  Eraser  was  a  powerful  man  as  fer 
as  strength  an'  health  goes,  but  what  did  it  all  amount 
to  ?  He  lost  it  as  quick  as  Samson  of  old.  Ah,  yes,  a 
man's  a  mighty  weak  thing,  an'  his  strength  very  unsar- 


LIGHT    AND    SHADOW  111 

tin,  an'  hangs  by  a  slender  thread.  Look  at  me,  parson. 
Once  I  was  able  to  stan'  almost  anything,  an'  here  I 
be  a  useless  log — a  burden  to  meself  an'  family." 

"  Don't  say  that,  John,  dear,"  remonstrated  Mrs. 
Stickles  wiping  her  eyes  with  her  apron.  "  Ye  know 
ye  ain't  a  bother.  Yer  as  patient  as  a  fly  in  molasses. 
The  fly  is  thar  an'  can't  help  it,  an'  so  are  you,  John. 
It's  the  Lord's  will,  an'  ye've  often  said  so.  He'll  look 
after  me  an'  the  little  ones.  He's  never  forsaken  us  yit, 
an'  I  guess  He  won't  if  we  stick  to  'im." 

"  Your  children  are  certainly  a  credit  to  you,  Mrs. 
Stickles,"  remarked  Mr.  "Westmore.  "  You  should  be 
proud  of  them." 

"  I  am,  sir,  indeed  I  am,"  and  the  worthy  woman's 
face  beamed  with  pleasure.  "  But  it  takes  a  lot  of 
'scretion,  Parson,  to  handle  a  big  family.  I've  often 
said  to  John  that  children  are  like  postage-stamps. 
They've  got  to  be  licked  sometimes  to  do  the  work  they 
were  intended  to  do.  But  if  ye  lick  'em  too  much,  ye 
spile  'em.  Oh,  yes,  it  takes  great  'scretion  to  bring 
up  a  family." 

"  You  certainly  have  used  great  discretion,"  replied 
Parson  John,  much  amused  at  Mrs.  Stickles'  words. 
"  I  suppose  those  who  are  working  out  are  just  as  dear 
as  the  four  little  ones  at  home  1  " 

"  They're  all  dear  to  me,  sir,  all  dear.  I  kin  count 
'em  all  on  me  ten  fingers,  no  more  an'  no  less.  Now 
some  fingers  are  larger  than  t'others,  and  some  smaller, 
an'  some  more  useful  than  t'others  an'  do  more  work, 
but  I  couldn't  part  with  one.     So  as  I  often  tell  John 


112  THE    FOURTH    WATCH 

our  children  are  jist  like  me  ten  fingers.  I  couldn't  do 
without  one  of  'em — ah,  no,  bless  their  dear  hearts." 

The  sound  of  little  feet  and  childish  voices  caused 
them  to  look  towards  the  kitchen.  There  they  beheld 
the  four  little  Stickles,  with  Dan  in  the  midst,  standing 
in  a  row  by  the  stove. 

"  II  o,  ho!"  exclaimed  the  parson,  rising  and  going 
towards  them.  "  So  here  you  are,  as  fresh  and  active 
as  ever." 

Diving  deep  into  his  pocket  he  brought  forth  a 
generous  piece  of  home-made  candy. 

"  Sweets  for  the  sweet,"  he  cried.  "  Now,  who's  to 
have  this  ?  " 

At  once  a  rush  ensued  and  four  little  forms  sur- 
rounded him. 

"  Wait,  wait ;  not  yet  1  "  and  the  good  man  held  the 
candy  aloft.  "  Nothing  given  away  here.  You  must 
earn  every  bit.  All  in  a  row  now.  There,  that's  better," 
and  he  lined  them  up,  like  a  veteran  schoolmaster, 
proud  of  his  little  class.  "  Come,  I  want  your  names. 
You  begin,"  and  he  tapped  the  nearest  to  him  on  the 
shoulder. 

"  John  Medley  Stickles,  sir,"  came  the  quick  reply. 

"  A  good  name,  my  little  man,"  and  the  parson  patted 
him  on  the  head.  "  May  you  be  worthy  of  your  name- 
sake, that  noble  man  of  God — the  first  Bishop  of  this 
Diocese.  Now  next,"  and  he  pointed  to  the  second  little 
Stickles. 

"  Benjamin  Alexander  Stickles,  sir." 

ft  Ha,    ha.      Named    after   your   two   grandfathers. 


LIGHT    AND    SHADOW  113 

Fine  men  they  were,  too.  Now  my  little  maiden,  we'll 
hear  from  you." 

"  Martha  Trumpit  Stickles,  sir,"  came  the  shy  re- 
sponse. 

"  That's  a  good  name,  my  dear,  after  your  mother — ■ 
and  with  her  eyes,  too.  Just  one  more  left.  Come,  my 
dear,  what  have  you  to  say  ?  " 

"  Ruth  Wethmore  Stickles,  thir,  if  you  pleath," 
lisped  the  little  lass,  with  her  eyes  upon  the  floor. 

At  these  words  the  parson  paused,  as  if  uncertain 
what  to  say.  "  Euth,  the  gleaner,"  he  at  length  slowly 
remarked.  "  Euth  Westmore.  Ah,  Mrs.  Stickles,  I 
little  thought  that  day  my  dear  wife  stood  sponsor  for 
your  haby  here,  and  gave  her  her  own  name,  how  soon 
she  would  he  taken  from  us.  Four  years — four  long 
years  since  she  went  home.  But  come,  but  come,"  he 
hurriedly  continued,  noticing  Mrs.  Stickles  about  to 
place  her  apron  to  her  eyes.  "  I  have  a  question  to  ask 
each  little  one  here,  and  then  something  is  coming. 
Look,  John,  answer  me,  quick.  How  many  Command- 
ments are  there  ?  " 

"  Ten,  sir,"  came  the  ready  reply. 

"  What  is  the  fifth  one  %  " 

"  Honour  thy  father  and  mother,  that  thy  days  may 
be  long  in  the  land  which  the  Lord  thy  God  giveth 
thee." 

"  That's  good,  that's  good.  Don't  forget  that,  my 
little  man.  The  first  commandment  with  promise.  I 
taught  your  brother  Tony  that  when  he  was  a  little  lad, 
and  I'm  sure  he  hasn't  forgotten  it.     Now,  Bennie, 


114  THE    FOURTII    WATCH 

what  two  things  do  we  learn  from  these  command- 
ments ?  " 

"  Hy  duty  towards  God,  an'  my  duty  towards  my 
neighbour." 

"  Right,  right  you  are.  Xow,  Martha,  what  were  you 
made  at  your  baptism  ?  " 

"  A  member  of  Christ,  a  child  of  God,  and  an  in- 
heritor of  the  Kingdom  of  Heaven." 

"  Well  done.  I  thought  that  would  stick  you,  but  I 
see  you  have  learned  your  lesson  well !  It's  Ruth's  turn 
now.  Can  you  tell  me,  my  dear,  what  happened  on 
Good  Friday?" 

"Jesus  died,  thir,  on  the  Croth." 

"And  what  took  place  on  Easter  Day?" 

"  He  roth  from  the  grave,  thir." 

"  Good.  good.  Always  remember  that.  Good  Friday 
and  Easter  Day  come  very  near  together.  'Earth's 
saddest  i]'av  and  brightest  day  are  just  one  day  apart.'  " 

-Mrs.  Stickles'  face  beamed  with  pleasure  as  the 
parson  praised  the  little  class,  and  gave  a  piece  of  candy 
to  each.  Then  he  drew  from  his  pocket  a  small  package 
wrapped  in  white  tissue-paper  tied  with  a  piece  of  pink 
ribbon,  and  held  it  up  before  the  wondering  eyes  of  the 
little  Stickles. 

"  From  Xollie,"  he  remarked.  "  Candy  she  made 
herself  for  the  one  who  can  best  say  the  verses  on  the 
Christian  Year  she  gave  you  to  learn  some  time  ago. 
Xow,  who  can  say  them  all  through  without  one  mis- 
take \  " 

Instantly  four  little  hands  shot  up  into  the  air,  and 


LIGHT    AND    SHADOW  115 

four  pairs  of  sparkling  eyes  were  fixed  eagerly  upon, 
the  coveted  treasure. 

"  Well,  Bennie,  we'll  try  you,"  said  the  parson. 
"  Stand  up  straight,  and  don't  be  afraid  to  speak  out." 

"  Advent  tells  us  Christ  is  here, 
Christmas  tells  us  Christ  is  near — " 

"  Hold,  hold !  "  cried  Mr.  Westmore.     "  Try  again." 

But  the  second  attempt  proving  worse  than  the  first, 
it  was  passed  on  to  Martha.  Bravely  the  little  maiden 
plunged  into  the  intricacies  of  the  two  first  verses,  hut 
became  a  total  wreck  upon  the  third.  Try  as  she  might 
the  words  would  not  come,  and  tears  were  in  her  eyes 
when  at  length  she  gave  up  the  attempt  and  waited  for 
John  Medley  to  conquer  where  she  had  failed.  But 
alas  !  though  starting  in  bravely  he  mixed  Epiphany  and 
Advent  so  hopelessly  that  the  parson  was  forced  to  stop 
his  wild  wanderings. 

"  Dear  me !  dear  me !  "  Mr.  Westmore  exclaimed. 
"  What  are  we  to  do  %  Surely  Buth  can  do  better  than 
this." 

With  hands  clasped  demurely  before  her  and  her  eyes 
fixed  upon  the  floor,  slowly  the  little  maiden  began  to 
lisp  forth  the  words  while  the  rest  listened  in  almost 
breathless  silence. 

"  Advent  telth  uth  Christ  ith  near; 
Christmath  telth  uth  Christ  ith  here; 
In  Epithany  we  trath 
All  the  glory  of  Hith  grath." 

Thus  steadily  on  she  lisped  through  verse  after  verse, 


116  THE    FOURTH    WATCH 

and  when  the  last  was  completed  a  sigh  of  relief  was 
heard  from  Mrs.  Stickles,  while  the  parson  clapped  his 
hands  with  delight.  How  her  eves  did  sparkle  as  he 
handed  her  the  little  package,  with  a  few  words  of  en- 
couragement, and  how  longingly  the  three  others  looked 
upon  the  treasure. 

"  Xow,"  said  Mr.  Westmore,  "  we  must  he  away. 
Xellie  will  wonder  what  has  become  of  us." 

"  Xot  yet,  sir,  not  yet !  "  cried  Mrs.  Stickles.  "  You 
must  have  a  cup  of  tea  first.  The  water  is  bilin',  an' 
it'll  be  ready  in  a  jiffy.  Did  ye  give  Midnight  any 
hay  ?  "  she  demanded,  turning  to  Bennie. 

"  Oh,  ma !  "  came  the  reply.     "  I  fergot  all  about  it." 

"  There  now,  it's  jist  like  ye.  Hurry  off  this  minute 
and  give  that  poor  critter  some  of  that  good  hay  from 
the  nigh  loft." 

As  the  little  Stickles  and  Dan  scurried  out  of  the 
room,  Ruth  still  clutching  her  precious  package,  Mrs. 
Stickles  turned  to  Mr.  Westmore. 

"  There  now,  Parson,  ye  jist  must  wait,  an'  have  that 
cup  of  tea,  an'  some  of  my  fresh  bread.  We  shan't  tech 
Xellie's  pies  an'  cake,  cause  ye  kin  hev  her  cookin'  any 
time,  bless  her  dear  heart.  How  I  wish  she  was  here 
herself  so  I  could  look  into  her  sweet  face  an'  tell  her 
meself  how  grateful  I  am." 

Hardly  had  the  parson  seated  himself  at  the  table  ere 
several  piercing  shrieks  fell  upon  his  ears.  Rushing  to 
the  door  he  beheld  John  Medley  hurrying  towards  the 
house  with  arms  at  right  angles,  and  his  face  as  pale  as 
death. 


LIGHT    AND    SHADOW  117 

"  Child !  Child !    What  is  it  ?  "  shouted  Mrs.  Stickles. 

"  R-r-uth's  k-k-illed !  She  f-f-ell  from  the  la-la-der. 
Oh!    Oh!" 

Waiting  to  hear  no  more  they  hurried  to  the  barn, 
and  there  they  found  the  little  form  lying  on  the  floor, 
still  grasping  in  her  hand  the  precious  package. 

"  My  poor  lamb  !  My  darlin'  baby !  are  ye  kilt,  are 
ye  kilt  ?  "  wailed  Mrs.  Stickles,  kneeling  down  by  her 
side.  "  Speak  to  me,  my  lamb,  my  little  baby !  Oh, 
speak  to  yer  mammy  !  " 

But  no  sign  of  recognition  came  from  the  prostrate 
child.  Seeing  this  the  mother  sprang  to  her  feet  and 
wrung  her  hands  in  agony  of  despair. 

"  What  will  we  do  ?  Oh,  what  kin  we  do  ?  My  baby 
is  kilt — my  poor  darlin' !     Oh — oh — oh !  " 

Tenderly  Parson  John  lifted  the  child  in  his  arms, 
carried  her  into  the  house,  and  laid  her  on  the  settle  near 
the  stove.  It  was  found  that  she  was  breathing,  and  soon 
a  little  water  brought  some  color  into  her  face.  Pres- 
ently she  opened  her  eyes,  and  started  up,  but  fell  back 
again,  with  a  cry  of  pain,  fiercely  clutching  the  package. 

"  What  is  it,  dear  %  "  asked  the  parson.  Where  is 
the  pain  ?  " 

"  My  leg !     My  leg !  "  moaned  the  child. 

"  Ah,  I  feared  so,"  exclaimed  Mr.  Westmore,  after  a 
brief  examination.  "  We  must  have  the  doctor  at  once. 
Is  there  anyone  near  who  will  go  for  him,  Mrs. 
Stickles?"  ' 

"  Not  a  man,  sir,  that's  fit  to  go.  They're  all  in  the 
woods.     Oh,  what  kin  we  do  !  " 


118  THE    FOURTH    WATCH 

"Don't  worry,  Mrs.  Stickles,"  was  the  reassuring 
reply.  "  Midnight  will  go,  and  I  will  hold  the  reins. 
Come,  Dan,  the  horse,  quick" 

As  Midnight  drew  up  to  the  door  a  few  minutes  later, 
Parson  John  came  out  of  the  house  and  affectionately 
patted  the  sleek  neck  of  the  noble  animal. 

"  Remember,  Midnight,"  he  said,  "  you  must  do 
your  best  to-day.  It's  for  the  sake  of  the  little  lass,  and 
she  was  getting  hay  for  you.     Don't  forget  that." 


CHAPTER    XIII 
FOR   THE   SAKE   OF  A   CHILD 

NIGHT  had  shut  down  over  the  land  as  Midnight, 
with  her  long,  swinging  strides,  clipped  through 
the  lighted  streets  of  the  prosperous  little  rail- 
way town  of  Bradin,  and  drew  up  at  old  Doctor  Leeds' 
snug  house.  A  fast  express  had  just  thundered  shriek- 
ing by.  A  strong,  cutting  wind  racing  in  from  the 
Northeast  was  tearing  through  the  sinuous  telegraph 
wires  with  a  buzzing  sound,  the  weird  prelude  of  a  com- 
ing storm. 

The  worthy  doctor  was  at  home,  having  only  lately 
returned  from  a  long  drive  into  the  country.  He  and 
his  wife,  a  kindly-faced  little  woman,  were  just  sitting 
down  to  their  quiet  meal.  Seldom  could  they  have  an 
evening  together,  for  the  doctor's  field  was  a  large  one 
and  his  patients  numerous. 

"  You  have  no  engagement  for  to-night,  I  hope, 
Joseph,"  remarked  his  wife,  as  she  poured  the  tea, 

"  No,  dear,"  was  the  reply.  "  I  expect  to  have  one 
evening  at  home,  and  I'm  very  glad  of  it,  too.  I  ni 
weary  to-night,  and  am  longing  for  my  arm-chair,  with 
my  papers  and  pipe." 

A  sharp  knock  upon  the  door  aroused  them,  and  great 

119 


120  THE    FOURTH    WATCH 

was  their  surprise  to  see  the  venerable  Rector  of  Glen- 
dow  enter. 

"  Parson  John !  "  cried  the  doctor,  rushing  forward 
and  grasping  his  old  friend's  hand.  "  It's  been  months 
since  I've  seen  you.  What  lucky  event  brought  you 
here  to-night  ?  Did  you  miss  the  train  %  If  so,  I'm 
glad.     My  chessmen  are  moulding  for  want  of  use." 

But  the  parson  shook  his  head  and  briefly  told  of  the 
accident  in  the  barn. 

"  And  so  the  little  lass  is  in  trouble,  hey?  More 
worry  for  Mrs.  Stickles." 

"  And  you  will  be  able  to  go  to-night,  Doctor  ? " 

"  Certainly.  Sweepstakes  hasn't  been  on  the  road 
for  two  days,  and  is  keen  for  a  good  run." 

"  But,  my  dear,"  remonstrated  Mrs.  Leeds,  "  are 
you  able  to  go  ?  You  have  been  driving  all  day,  and 
must  be  very  tired.    Why  not  rest  a  little  first  ?  " 

"  And  let  the  poor  child  suffer  that  much  longer ! 
Not  a  bit  of  it." 

"  I  have  heard  doctors  say,"  remarked  the  parson,  as 
he  and  Dan  sat  down  to  their  supper,  "  that  they  get  so 
hardened  to  suffering  that  at  last  it  does  not  affect  them 
at  all.    I  am  glad  it  is  not  true  with  you." 

"  The  older  I  get,"  replied  the  doctor  thoughtfully, 
stirring  his  tea,  "  the  more  my  heart  aches  at  the  pains 
and  sufferings  of  others,  especially  in  little  children. 
As  soon  as  I  hear  of  someone  in  distress  I  can  never 
rest  until  I  reach  his  or  her  side.  There  always  comes 
to  me  a  voice  urging  me  to  make  haste.  Even  now  I 
seem  to  hear  that  child  calling  to  me.     She  is  a  sweet, 


FOR    THE    SAKE    OF    A    CHILD       121 

pretty  lass,  and  how  often  have  I  patted  her  fair  little 
head,  and  to  think  of  those  blue  eves  filled  with  tears, 
that  tiny  face  drawn  with  pain,  and  her  whole  body 
writhing  in  agony.  However,  you  know  all  about  this, 
Parson,  so  what's  the  use  of  my  talking." 

"  But  I  am  glad  to  hear  you  speak  as  you  do,  Doctor. 
Over  thirty  years  have  I  been  in  Glendow,  and  I  become 
more  affected  by  suffering  the  older  I  get." 

The  doctor  looked  keenly  into  Mr.  "Westmore's  face, 
as  if  trying  to  read  his  inmost  thoughts. 

"  Do  you  ever  become  weary  of  your  work  ?  "  he  at 
length  asked.  "  Do  you  not  long  for  a  more  congenial 
field?" 

"  I  have  often  been  asked  that  question,  Doctor,"  the 
parson  slowly  replied,  "  but  not  so  much  of  late.  I  am 
getting  old  now,  and  young  men  are  needed,  so  I  am 
somewhat  forgotten.  However,  I  am  glad  that  this  is 
so.  Years  ago  when  a  tempting  offer  came  to  me  from 
some  influential  parish,  though  I  always  refused,  it 
disturbed  me  for  days,  until  the  matter  was  finally 
settled.  Xow  I  do  not  have  such  distractions,  and  am 
quite  happy.  In  the  quiet  parish  of  Glendow  I  find  all 
that  the  heart  can  desire.  The  labour  to  me  becomes  no 
more  monotonous  than  the  work  of  parents  with  their 
children.  They  often  are  weary  in  their  toil  for  their 
little  ones,  but  not  weary  of  it.  The  body  gives  out  at 
times,  but  not  the  love  in  the  heart.  And  so  I  always 
find  something  new  and  fresh  in  my  work  which  gives 
such  a  relish  to  life.  I  have  baptized  most  of  the  young 
people  in  this  parish,  I  have  prepared  them  for  Confir- 


122  THE    FOURTH    WATCH 

mation,  given  them  their  first  Communion,  and  in 
numerous  cases  have  joined  their  hands  in  holy  wedlock. 
Some  may  long  for  a  greater  field  and  a  wealthy  congre- 
gation. But,  remember,  as  the  sun  in  the  heavens  may 
be  seen  as  clearly  in  the  tiny  dewdrop  as  in  the  great 
ocean,  so  I  can  see  the  glory  of  the  Father  shining  in 
these  humble  parishioners  of  mine,  especially  so  in  the 
children  of  tender  years,  as  in  the  great  intellects.  As 
for  travelling  abroad  to  see  the  world  and  its  wonders,  I 
find  I  can  do  it  more  conveniently  in  my  quiet  study 
among  my  books.  At  a  very  small  cost  I  can  wander 
to  all  parts  of  the  world,  without  the  dangers  and  in- 
conveniences of  steamers  and  railroads.  As  to  studying 
human  nature,  it  is  to  be  found  in  any  parish.  Carlyle 
well  said  that  '  any  road,  this  simple  Entepfuhl  road, 
will  lead  you  to  the  end  of  the  world,'  and  was  it  not  the 
quaint  and  humble-minded  Thoreau  who  expressed  him- 
self in  somewhat  the  same  way : 

"  'If  with  Fancy  unfurled, 
You  leave  your  abode, 
You  may  go  round  the  world, 
By  the  Marlboro  road.' " 

The  doctor  rose  from  the  table  and  grasped  Mr. 
TVestmore's  hand. 

"  Thank  you  for  those  words,"  he  said.  "  I  have 
thought  of  those  very  things  so  often,  and  you  have  ex- 
pressed my  ideas  exactly.  I  must  now  be  away.  You 
will  stay  all  night,  for  I  wish  to  have  a  good  chat  with 
you  upon  my  return." 


FOR    THE    SAKE    OF    A    CHILD       123 

"  Thank  you  very  much,"  the  parson  replied,  "  but 
we  must  be  off  as  soon  as  possible.  My  daughter  is  all 
alone  and  will  be  quite  uneasy  by  my  long  absence. 
We  shall  go  home  by  the  way  of  Flett's  Corner,  and  thus 
save  three  miles.  But  look,  Doctor,  don't  send  your  bill 
to  the  Stickles.     Send  it  to  me.    Now  be  sure." 

"  Tut,  tut,  man.  Don't  worry  about  the  bills  of 
others.  Leave  this  matter  to  me.  The  Stickles  won't 
have  any  cause  for  anxiety  about  the  bill,  and  why 
should  you  ?    It's  paid  already." 

What  a  noble  picture  these  two  men  presented  as  they 
stood  there !  Both  had  grown  old  in  a  noble  service  for 
their  fellow-men,  and  truly  their  grey  heads  were  beauti- 
ful crowns  of  glory.  One  had  charge  of  the  cure  of 
souls,  the  other  of  bodies,  and  yet  there  was  no  clashing. 
Each  respected  the  work  of  the  other,  and  both  were  in- 
spired with  the  high  motive  which  lifts  any  profession 
or  occupation  above  the  ordinary — the  Christ-like 
motive  of  love. 

Parson  John  remained  for  some  time  after  the  doctor 
had  left,  chatting  with  Mrs.  Leeds,  and  when  at  length 
Midnight  started  on  her  homeward  way  it  was  quite 
late.  They  had  not  advanced  far  before  the  storm 
which  had  been  threatening  swept  upon  them.  Although 
the  night  was  dark,  the  roadbed  was  firm  and  Midnight 
surefooted.  As  they  scudded  forward  the  wind  howled 
through  the  trees  and  dashed  the  snow  against  their 
faces.  They  fled  by  farm-houses  and  caught  fleeting 
glimpses  of  the  bright,  cosy  scenes  within.  Twice  they 
met  belated  teams  plodding  wearily  homeward.     With- 


124  THE    FOURTH    WATCH 

out  one  touch  of  rein,  or  word  of  command,  each  time 
Midnight  slowed  down,  swerved  to  the  left  and  swung 
by.  It  was  only  when  the  dim,  dark  forms  of  the  pant- 
ing steeds  loomed  up  for  an  instant  on  their  right,  and 
then  disappeared  into  the  blackness,  were  they  aware  of 
their  presence.  Occasionally  the  road  wound  for  a  mile 
or  more  through  a  wooded  region,  and  in  such  places 
they  found  peace  and  shelter.  Here  the  wind  could  not 
reach  them,  although  they  could  hear  its  wild  ravings 
in  the  tree-tops  above.  The  snow  came  softly,  silently 
down,  and,  although  they  could  not  see  it  falling,  they 
could  feel  it  flecking  their  faces  and  knew  it  was  weaving 
its  mystic  robe  over  their  bodies.  In  one  place  such  as 
this  a  faint  glimmer  of  light  struggled  through  the  dark- 
ness a  short  distance  from  the  road. 

"  It's  Stephen's  cabin,"  the  parson  remarked.  "  It 
is  a  snug  place  on  a  night  like  this.  I  wonder  what 
he  is  doing  now.  I  wish  we  had  time  to  call  to  give  him 
a  word  of  cheer." 

About  two  hundred  yards  beyond  the  cabin  they  left 
the  main  highway  and  entered  upon  a  lumber  road. 
This  latter  was  used  in  the  winter  time  in  order  to  avoid 
a  large  hill  on  the  former  and  the  huge  drifts  which 
piled  from  fence  to  fence.  At  first  Midnight  slowed 
down  to  a  walk,  but  at  length,  becoming  a  little  im- 
patient to  get  home,  she  broke  into  a  gentle  trot.  Then, 
in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye,  the  sleigh  gave  a  great  lurch, 
and  before  a  hand  could  be  raised  Dan  found  himself 
shooting  over  the  parson  and  falling  headlong  into  the 
soft  yielding  snow.     Recovering  himself  as  quickly  as 


FOE    THE    SAKE    OF    A    CHILD       125 

possible,  and  brushing  the  snow  from  his  mouth,  ears 
and  eyes,  he  groped  around  to  ascertain  what  had  hap- 
pened. Away  in  the  distance  he  could  hear  a  crashing 
sound  as  Midnight  hurried  along  with  the  overturned 
sleigh.  Then  all  was  still.  He  called  and  shouted,  but 
received  no  reply.  A  feeling  of  dread  crept  over  him, 
and  at  once  he  started  to  walk  back  to  the  road.  He  had 
advanced  but  a  few  steps,  however,  when  he  stumbled 
and  half  fell  over  a  form  which  he  knew  must  be  that  of 
Parson  John.  He  put  out  his  hand  and  felt  his  coat. 
Then  he  called,  but  all  in  vain.  Hastily  fumbling  in 
his  pockets  he  drew  forth  several  matches  and  tried  to 
strike  a  light.  His  little  hands  trembled  as  he  did  so, 
and  time  and  time  again  a  draught  blew  out  the  tiny 
flame.  In  desperation  he  at  length  kneeled  down  upon, 
the  snow,  sheltered  the  match  with  his  coat,  and  era 
long  had  the  satisfaction  of  seeing  the  flame  grow 
strong  and  steady.  Carefully  he  held  it  up  and  the 
small  light  illumined  the  darkness  for  the  space  of  a 
few  feet  around.  Then  it  fell  upon  the  prostrate  form  at 
his  side.  It  touched  for  an  instant  the  old  man's  face, 
oh,  so  still  and  white,  lying  there  in  the  snow ;  and  then 
an  awful  blackness.     The  light  had  gone  ©ut ! 


CHAPTER  XIV 
THE  LONG  NIGHT 

AS  Dan  stood  there  in  the  darkness  -with  snow 
to  his  knees,  clutching  between  his  fingers  the 
extinguished  match,  the  helplessness  of  his  posi- 
tion dawned  upon  him.  What  had  happened  to  the 
parson  he  could  easily  guess,  for  the  place  was  full  of 
old  stumps,  half  protruding  from  beneath  the  snow. 
"No  doubt  he  had  struck  one  of  these  in  the  fall.  But 
of  the  result  of  the  blow  he  could  not  tell,  for  placing 
his  ear  close  down  to  the  face  he  tried  to  detect  somo 
sign  of  life,  but  all  in  vain.  Suppose  the  parson  had 
been  killed!  He  thought  of  Xcllie,  waiting  anxiously 
at  the  Rectory.  How  could  he  tell  her  what  had  hap- 
pened ?  Suddenly  a  new  sense  of  responsibility  came  to 
him.  Something  must  be  done  as  quickly  as  possible, 
and  he  was  the  only  one  to  do  it.  He  thought  of 
Stephen's  cabin,  which  they  had  passed  a  short  time 
before.  He  could  obtain  help  there,  and  he  must  go  at 
once.  Taking  off  his  own  outer  coat  he  laid  it  carefully 
over  the  prostrate  man,  and  then  struggled  back  to  the 
road.  Having  reached  this  he  imagined  it  would  not 
take  him  long  to  cover  the  distance.  But  he  soon  found 
how  difficult  was  the  undertaking,  and  what  a  task  it 

126 


THE    LONG    NIGHT  127i 

was  to  keep  the  road  on  such  a  night.  The  blackness 
was  intense,  and  the  snow,  which  all  the  time  had  been 
steadily  falling,  added  to  the  difficulty.  Every  few 
steps  he  would  plxuage  off  into  the  deep  snow,  and 
flounder  around  again  until  he  had  regained  the  solid 
footing.  The  distance,  which  was  not  more  than  a  mile, 
seemed  never-ending.  Still  he  plodded  on,  the  thought 
of  that  silent  form  lying  in  the  snow  inspiring  him  with 
extra  energy.  At  length,  much  exhausted,  a  welcome 
glimmer  of  light  winged  its  way  through  the  darkness. 
Dan's  heart  leaped  within  him.  The  place  was  near, 
and  Stephen  had  not  yet  gone  to  bed.  Panting  heavily, 
and  struggling  unsteadily,  he  crept  slowly  forward, 
reached  the  door  and  pounded  fiercely  upon  it  with  both 
doubled-up  fists. 

Slowly  the  door  was  opened,  and  great  was  Stephen's 
surprise  to  see  the  little  snow-covered  figure  standing 
before  him. 

"  Help  !     Come  quick !  "  gasped  Dan. 

"  What' s  wrong  ?  "  Stephen  demanded,  dragging  the 
boy  into  the  cabin.     "  "Where's  the  parson  ?  " 

"  Over  there — in  the  snow — in  the  woods  !  " 

"  Sit  down,"  said  Stephen,  noticing  how  weary  and 
excited  was  the  little  lad.     "  Tell  me  now  all  about  it." 

Quickly  and  briefly  Dan  related  about  the  drive 
through  the  storm,  the  accident  on  the  "  cut  off,"  and 
Parson  John's  fall. 

"  Oh,  God  !  "  Stephen  groaned  when  he  had  heard  the 
story.  "  What  will  Nellie  think  ?  What  will  she  say  ? 
It  will  break  her  heart !     I  must  be  off  at  once  I  " 


128  THE    FOURTH    WATCH 

Reaching  for  the  lantern  his  hand  trembled  as  he 
lighted  it. 

"  Wait  here,"  he  commanded,  "  till  I  hitch  Dexter  to 
the  pung;  or  no,  you'd  better  come  with  me  and  give 
a  hand.     There  is  no  time  to  lose." 

Dan  obeyed  without  a  word  and  held  the  lantern 
while  Stephen  harnessed  the  horse. 

"  Where's  Midnight  ?  "  Stephen  asked,  as  he  deftly 
drew  the  reins  through  the  terrets. 

"  She  ran  away.  I  heard  the  sleigh  crashing  after 
her  as  she  ran." 

"  She'll  kill  herself!  But  no,  she's  too  wise  for  that. 
She'll  go  home  and  whinny  at  the  door,  and  then  what 
will  Nellie  think !  We  must  hurry  along  as  fast  as 
possible.     She  will  be  frantic  with  fear." 

"  Guess  we'd  better  bring  the  parson  back  to  your 
place,"  Dan  remarked  as  Dexter  swung  down  the  road. 

"  Bring  him  to  my  place !  "  exclaimed  Stephen  in 
surprise.     "  What  can  we  do  for  him  there?  " 

"  Won't  he  need  the  doctor  ?  " 

"  Yes,  he  may.  But  we  can't  go  all  the  way  to 
Bradin  now." 

"  Guess  you  won't  have  to  do  that." 

"  Why,  what  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  He's  at  the  Stickles'." 

"  At  the  Stickles'  ?  " 

"  Yep.  The  little  girl  got  hurt,  so  we  went  after 
the  doctor." 

"  Oh,  I  see — I  see  now,"  Stephen  mused.  "  That'a 
a  different  matter.    It's  only  three  miles  to  the  Stickles'. 


THE    LONG    NIGHT  129 

But  the  road  will  be  bad  to-night,  for  the  wind's  across 
country,  and  the  drifts  there  pile  fast  and  deep.  But 
I  shall  go  if  necessary,  even  if  I  have  to  crawl  on  all 
fours.  I  won't  have  to  do  that,  though,  for  Dexter  will 
take  me  through  if  any  horse  can." 

It  did  not  take  them  long  to  cover  the  one  mile  of 
road  between  the  cabin  and  the  place  where  the  acci- 
dent had  occurred.  By  the  light  of  the  lantern  it  was 
not  difficult  to  find  the  spot.  An  uncanny  feeling  crept 
over  them  as  they  drew  near,  and  saw  the  parson  lying 
there  in  the  snow  just  as  Dan  had  left  him.  With 
the  lantern  in  his  hand  Stephen  leaped  from  the  pung 
and  looked  intently  into  the  face  of  the  prostrate  man. 
It  did  not  take  him  long  to  ascertain  that  life  still  re- 
mained in  his  body,  and  a  prayer  of  thankfulness  went 
up  from  his  heart  as  he  thought  of  the  dear  old  man 
and  the  anxious  Nellie. 

Quickly  and  as  carefully  as  possible  they  lifted  him 
into  the  pung,  covered  him  with  a  warm  robe,  and  then 
sped  back  to  the  cabin.  As  soon  as  they  had  laid  him 
upon  the  bed,  Stephen  reached  for  a  heavy  coat  hang- 
ing on  the  wall. 

"  I'm  off  now,"  he  said.  "  You  keep  watch.  I'll 
be  back  as  soon  as  I  can." 

The  injured  man  lay  perfectly  motionless,  to  all  out- 
ward appearance  dead.  Dan  stood  looking  at  him  for 
some  time  after  Stephen  had  left,  puzzled  and  be- 
wildered. What  could  he  do  ?  What  would  Nellie  think 
of  him  now?  He  sank  upon  the  stool  by  the  bedside 
and  buried  his  face  in  his  hands — a  forlorn  little  crea- 


130  THE    FOURTH    WATCH 

ture,  trying  to  think.  Presently  he  glanced  towards  the 
bed,  and  gazed  long  and  intently  upon  the  parson's 
face.  Many  were  the  thoughts  which  crowded  into  his 
mind  as  he  sat  there.  A  deep  affection  for  the  old  man 
had  sprung  np  in  his  heart.  To  him  he  was  like  some 
superior  being  with  his  great  strength  and  wonderful 
knowledge.  Then  to  think  he  should  care  for  him,  Dan 
Flitter,  so  small,  who  could  neither  read  nor  write,  who 
was  nothing  but  a  sponger.  The  thought  of  Farring- 
ton's  insult  came  to  him,  and  what  he  had  said  about 
the  parson.  It  had  rankled  continually  in  his  breast, 
and  now  it  arose  in  greater  force  than  ever.  Why  were 
the  people  saying  such  things  about  this  good  man  ?  lie 
had  listened  to  men  talking  in  the  store  and  along  the 
road.  They  had  said  and  hinted  many  things,  and  he 
had  been  silent.  But,  though  silent,  his  mind  and 
heart  had  been  at  work.  Often  while  lying  in  his 
little  bed  at  night  he  had  brooded  over  the  matter.  lie 
longed  to  do  something  to  clear  the  parson,  and  show 
the  people  that  they  were  wrong.  But  what  could  he 
do  ?  They  would  not  listen  to  him.  They  hinted  that 
the  parson  had  stolen  the  gold,  and  what  could  he  say? 
It  needed  more  than  words.  These  were  the  thoughts 
which  had  been  beating  through  his  brain  for  days, 
giving  him  at  times  that  listless  manner,  far-away  look, 
and  lack  of  interest  in  his  studies,  which  worried  Nellie 
so  much.  So  sitting  on  guard  by  the  injured  man's 
side  this  night  with  large,  dreamy  eyes,  thoughtful  face 
< — more  thoughtful  than  ordinary  for  a  child  of  his  age 
— he  recalled  the  various  scenes  since  the  night  of  the 


THE    LONG    NIGHT  131 

fire.  Suddenly  his  face  flushed,  the  dreamy  expression 
faded  from  his  eyes,  as  the  dim  light  of  dawn  is  dis- 
persed by  the  fulness  of  day.  They  shone  with  a  new 
radiance  as  he  turned  them  upon  the  parson's  face.  He 
rose  to  his  feet  and  walked  quickly  up  and  down  the 
room.  He  was  once  again  a  creature  of  the  wild.  The 
glory  of  a  lofty  purpose  fired  his  blood.  He  had  experi- 
enced it  before  when,  out  in  the  woods,  he  had  followed 
the  tracks  of  the  nimble  deer,  or  listened  to  the  whirr  of 
ihe  startled  pigeon.  But  now  it  was  a  nobler  chase,  a 
loftier  purpose,  in  which  the  honour  of  a  faithful  friend 
was  at  stake. 

A  sound  from  the  bed  startled  him.  Glancing  quickly 
in  that  direction  he  noticed  the  lips  of  the  wounded 
man  moving.  No  sign  of  consciousness,  however,  did 
he  give.  He  was  in  another  world,  the  strange,  mysteri- 
ous world,  where  the  mind  roams  at  will  and  language 
flows  from  the  fountain-head  of  the  inner  being. 

"  '  The  blood  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  which  was 
shed  for  thee — drink  this — .'  "  He  was  in  church  at  the 
Communion  service,  administering  the  cup. 

"  Four  thousand  dollars."  He  was  at  the  auction 
now,  eager  and  intent. 

"  Poor  lassie,  poor  little  lamb."  This  time  it  was  the 
injured  Stickles  child.  And  thus  he  rambled  on  from 
one  thing  to  another,  while  Dan  stood  like  a  statue  in 
the  room  staring  upon  him.  Suddenly  he  opened  his 
eyes,  looked  around  in  a  dazed  manner,  and  then  fixed 
them  upon  the  boy's  face.  He  moved  a  little,  and  at 
once  a  cry  of  pain  escaped  his  lips. 


132  THE    FOURTH    WATCH 

'■'  Dan !  Dan  !  "  he  exclaimed.  "  What  is  the  matter  ? 
"Where  am  I,  and  what  is  the  meaning  of  this  pain  in 
my  shoulder  ?  " 

The  look  in  his  face  was  most  pathetic,  and  Dan 
longed  to  do  something  to  relieve  his  suffering. 

"Does  yer  shoulder  hurt  much?"  the  lad  asked. 

"  Yes,  yes,  the  pain  is  intense.  Tell  me  how  it  hap- 
pened." 

"  We  were  chucked  from  the  sleigh,  an'  I  guess  you 
struck  a  stump,"  was  the  reply. 

"  Is  this  Stephen's  cabin  ?  " 

"  Yep.  He's  gone  fer  the  doctor,  so  I'm  keepin' 
watch." 

The  parson  remained  very  quiet,  and  did  not  speak 
for  some  time.  He  still  felt  confused,  and  his  shoulder 
was  giving  him  great  pain.  He  realized,  however,  how 
much  he  owed  to  Dan.  What  if  he  had  been  alone 
when  the  accident  occurred  ? 

"  Did  you  come  back  for  Stephen  ?  "  he  at  length 
questioned. 

"  Yep." 

"  And  you  were  not  hurt  ?    Arc  you  sure  ?  " 

"  Sure's  I'm  livin'." 

"  And  you  were  not  afraid  to  come  alone  to  the  cabin 
for  help  ?  " 

"  No,  I  didn't  mind." 

"  You're  a  brave  boy,  Dan.  You've  done  much  for 
me  to-night.     Saved  my  life,  in  fact." 

"  Oh,  I  didn't  do  much.  Xot  worth  mentionin'," 
and  the  lad  took  his  seat  by  the  bedside. 


THE    LONG    NIGHT  133 

How  the  time  did  creep  by.  Often  Dan  went  to  the 
door  and  looked  out.  He  strained  his  ears  in  order  to 
hear  the  sound  of  bells,  hut  the  wind  moaning  and 
tearing  through  the  tree-tops  alone  fell  upon  his  ears. 
At  last,  when  his  patience  was  almost  exhausted,  the 
door  was  flung  open,  and  Doctor  Leeds  entered,  covered 
with  snow,  and  a  most  anxious  look  upon  his  face.  It 
did  not  take  long  for  the  practised  eye  and  hand  to 
ascertain  the  trouble.  The  shoulder  had  been  dislocated, 
and  would  have  to  be  replaced. 

Then  the  parson  showed  of  what  stuff  he  was  made. 
Hardly  a  sound  escaped  his  lips  as  the  doctor,  assisted 
by  Stephen,  performed  the  painful  operation. 

"  There !  "  exclaimed  the  physician,  as  he  bound  up 
the  wounded  member,  "  we'll  have  you  round  again  in 
a  short  time.  Now,  some  would  have  squaked  and 
yelled  like  a  baby,  but  you're  a  man  through  and 
through." 

"  Thank  you,  Doctor.  You  are  very  good.  But  how 
about  the  little  lass  ?  You  didn't  leave  her  for  me  ? 
Tell  me  the  truth,"  and  the  parson's  eyes  sought  the 
doctor's  face. 

"  Oh,  don't  you  worry  about  her,"  was  the  good- 
natured  reply.  "  Sweepstakes  took  me  over  the  road 
like  the  wind,  and  I  had  the  poor  little  leg  all  fixed  up 
before  Stephen  arrived.  She'll  do  very  well  now  with- 
out my  care.    But  come,  we  must  get  you  home  at  once." 

"  Do  you  think  I  am  able  to  go  ?  " 

"  Able  !  certainly  you're  able.  Home's  the  only  place 
for  you,  though  the  journey  may  cause  you  some  pain." 


134:  THE    FOURTII    WATCH 

"  And  you  will  come  too,  Doctor  ?  You  must  be  very 
tired,  and  need  a  good  rest." 

"  Yes,  I'm  going  with  you.  I'm  not  going  to  leave 
you  yet.  You're  worth  fifty  ordinary  men,  and  we  must 
not  run  any  risk.  Besides  that,  sir,  I  do  want  a  glimpse 
of  your  dear  Nellie,  and  a  little  chat  with  her.  I 
haven't  rested  my  eyes  upon  her  for  months,  and  do  you 
think  I'm  going  to  miss  such  an  opportunity  ?  No,  sir, 
not  a  bit  of  it." 

Mr.  Westmore  was  forced  to  smile  in  spite  of  his 
weakness  as  he  looked  into  the  doctor's  strong,  rugged 
face. 

"  God  bless  you,"  he  replied.  "  This  isn't  the  first 
time  you  have  been  a  firm  friend  to  me.  I  can  never 
forget  how  you  stood  day  and  night  by  the  side  of  my 
dear  wife,  doing  all  in  your  power  to  keep  her  with  us 
a  little  longer." 

"  Tut,  tut,  man,"  and  the  doctor  turned  away  to 
hide  a  mistiness  in  his  eyes.  "  She  was  worthy  of  it, 
and  her  like  can't  be  found  every  day.  But  come, 
Steve  has  been  waiting  at  the  door  for  some  time,  and 
we  must  be  away." 


CHAPTEK  XV, 

DEEPENING  SHADOWS 

S  Nellie  stood  at  the  study  window  the  Sun- 
day afternoon  her  father  left  for  Craig's 
Corner  a  sense  of  depression  and  loneliness 
stole  over  her.  How  much  longer  could  her  father 
continue  those  hard  drives,  she  wondered.  He  was 
getting  old.  His  hair  was  so  white  and  his  steps 
feeble.  What  was  to  become  of  him  when  he  could 
perform  his  beloved  work  no  longer  ?  She  knew  very 
well  how  they  were  pressed  for  money,  and  how  much 
had  gone  to  help  Philip  in  his  fight  in  British  Colum- 
bia. How  many  things  had  they  gone  without !  Even 
mere  common  necessities  had  been  given  up.  Nat- 
urally her  mind  turned  to  the  auction,  and  the  money 
her  father  had  paid  down  for  the  farm.  Eour  thou- 
sand dollars !  Where  had  it  come  from,  and  why 
would  her  father  never  tell  her,  or  speak  about  it  in  her 
presence  ?  How  often  had  she  lain  awake  at  night 
thinking  about  it  all !  Then  to  hear  people  more  thar 
hinting  about  Billy  Fletcher's  gold,  and  what  had  be- 
come of  it,  was  at  times  more  than  she  could  bear. 
Never  for  a  moment  did  she  doubt  her  father,  but  often 
she  longed  to  ask  him  for  an  explanation  of  the  mystery. 
Was  the  money  his  own,  or  was  he  handling  it  for  some- 

135 


136  THE    FOURTH    WATCH 

one  else  ?     If  so,  why  should  he  not  tell  her — his  only 
daughter — who  was  so  dear  to  him  ? 

She  was  aroused  by  the  arrival  of  several  children 
from  the  houses  nearest  the  Rectory.  Every  Sunday 
afternoon  Nellie  found  her  real  enjoyment  with  her 
little  class.  She  had  known  them  all  since  their  birth, 
and  they  loved  her.  How  longingly  thoy  looked  for- 
ward to  that  brief  Sunday  gathering.  There  were  no 
harsh,  strict  rules  here,  no  perfunctory  opening  and 
closing,  and  no  lifeless  lessons  droned  forth  in  a  half- 
rebellious  spirit.  Tt  was  all  joy  and  love.  IIow  their 
voices  did  ring  as  Xellie  played  on  the  little  harmonium 
some  sweet  hymn  attuned  to  childish  hearts  and  minds. 
Then,  after  the  lessons  were  over,  there  came  the  treat 
of  the  day — a  story  read  from  one  of  those  marvellous 
books  kept  on  a  shelf  in  a  corner  all  by  themselves. 
When  at  last  the  story  had  been  finished  and  the  class 
dispersed,  Xellie  locked  the  doors,  and  made  her  way 
to  Vivien  Nelson's.  What  a  hearty  welcome  she  re- 
ceived from  them  all !  To  Mr.  and  Mr-.  Nelson,  hard- 
working, God-fearing  people,  she  was  as  their  own 
daughter.  She  and  Vivien,  their  only  child,  had  been 
playmates  together  at  school,  and  their  friendship  had 
never  languished.  There  Xellie  felt  at  home.  She 
knew  that  no  matter  what  disagreeable  things  were 
being  said  about  her  father  throughout  the  parish,  no 
word  of  reproach  or  blame  was  ever  mentioned  in  the 
Xclson  home.  Others  might  think  what  they  liked 
about  Parson  John,  but  the  Xelsons  had  known  him  too 
long  in  times  of  sorrow  and  joy  to  believe  any  evil  of 
their  old  Rector. 


DEEPENING    SHADOWS  137 

Here  Nellie  stayed  until  the  following  afternoon, 
and  then  made  her  way  home  to  have  the  house  com- 
fortable before  her  father  came  back.  As  the  evening 
drew  near  she  anxiously  watched  for  his  return.  She 
saw  the  dull  grey  sky  and  knew  that  a  storm  threatened. 
As  the  darkness  deepened  and  the  wind  raved  about  the 
house,  ancl  the  snow  beat  against  the  north  windows, 
her  anxiety  increased.  The  supper  table  stood  ready  in 
its  snowy  whiteness;  the  kettle  sang  on  the  stove  and 
the  fire  in  the  sitting-room  grate  threw  out  its  cheerful 
glow.  It  was  a  scene  of  peace  and  genial  comfort  con- 
trasted with  the  raging  of  the  elements  outside.  But 
Nellie  thought  nothing  of  this,  for  her  heart  was  too 
much  disturbed.  Had  anything  happened  to  her  father 
and  Dan  ?  It  was  some  relief  to  know  that  the  lad 
was  along,  for  two  were  better  than  one  should  an  acci- 
dent occur.  Her  eyes  roamed  often  to  the  little  clock 
ticking  away  on  the  mantel-piece.  Six-seven— eight- 
nine.  The  hours  dragged  slowly  by.  She  tried  to  read, 
but  the  words  were  meaningless.  She  picked  up  her 
needlework,  but  soon  laid  it  down  again,  with  no  heart 
to  continue.  Once  more  she  glanced  at  the  clock.  Ten 
minutes  after  nine.  She  thought  it  longer  than  that 
since  it  had  struck  the  hour.  She  arose  to  attend  the 
kitchen  fire,  when  a  loud  knock  upon  the  front  door 
startled  her.  She  turned  back,  and  stood  for  an  in- 
stant in  the  centre  of  the  room.  Her  heart  beat  fast, 
and  her  face  paled.  Tramps  were  frequently  seen  in 
Glendow,  working  their  way  from  one  place  to  another. 
At  times  they  were  impudent  and  tried  to  force  an 


138  THE    FOURTH    WATCH 

entrance  into  houses.  It  was  a  likely  night  for  them  to 
<seek  shelter,  and  suppose  one  were  standing  out  there 
now !  "What  could  she,  a  lone  woman,  do  \  Another 
rap,  harder  than  the  first,  fell  upon  her  ears.  Some- 
thing must  be  done,  and  at  once.  Crossing  the  room 
and  pausing  near  the  door  she  demanded  who  was  there.  ' 

"  Sam  Dobbins,"  came  the  reply,  and  Xellie  breathed 
more  freely  as  she  unlocked  the  door,  opened  it  and 
admitted  the  visitor. 

"  'Tia  a  blasted  night,"  the  man  remarked  as  he  tried 
to  shake  himself  free  from  his  mantle  of  snow  and 
stamped  upon  the  floor  with  his  great  heavy  boots.  "  If 
I'd  known  'twas  so  bad  I'd  never  stirred  one  step." 

"Is  anything  wrong?"  questioned  ]NTellie,  fearful 
lest  Sam  was  the  bearer  of  ill  news.  "  Have  you  seen 
my  father  ?  " 

"  Your  father !  Isn't  he  home?  "  and  the  man  looked 
his  surprise. 

"  Iso,  he  hasn't  come  yet,  and  I'm  so  uneasy." 

"  Well,  I  declare,  and  to  think  that  I  have  come  all 
the  way  to  see  him,  and  he's  not  here.  When  do  you 
expect  him  ?  " 

"  I  expected  him  home  before  dark,  but  now  I  don't 
know  what  to  think.  Is  there  anything  I  can  do  for 
you,  Mr.  Dobbins  2    Won't  you  take  a  seat  ?  " 

"  Ko,  there's  nothin'  you  kin  do,  miss.  I've  got  to 
see  the  parson,  and  only  him.  I  hate  the  job,  but  I've 
got  to  do  it.  I'm  the  only  constable  in  the  place,  and 
I've  got  to  do  my  duty." 

At  these  words  a  startled  look  came  into  Xellie's  face. 


DEEPENING    SHADOWS  139 

She  took  a  step  forward  and  looked  keenly  into  the 
man's  eyes. 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  she  demanded.  "  I  know 
you're  a  constable,  but  what  do  you  want  of  my  father  ? 
Oh,  please  tell  me,  quick !  " 

"  Now  don't  get  excited,  Miss,"  Mr.  Dobbins  kindly 
replied,  looking  with  admiration  upon  the  excited  young 
figure  before  him.  "  Remember,  I've  nothin'  against 
your  father.  Haven't  I  shod  every  horse  he  had  since 
he  came  to  this  place,  long  before  you  were  born.  He's 
been  a  good  customer  of  mine,  and  I  ain't  got  nothin' 
agin  him.     I'm  only  doin'  my  duty  as  a  constable." 

"  But  I  don't  understand,  Mr.  Dobbins.  You  come 
here  to  arrest  my  father  and " 

"  Only  to  serve  the  summons,  Miss,"  interrupted  the 
blacksmith.  "  I  ain't  goin'  to  arrest  him.  He'll  be 
asked  to  appear  at  the  trial,  that's  all." 

"  Trial !  what  trial  ?  " 

u  Oh,  it's  in  connection  with  a  cow." 

"A  cow!" 

"  Yes.  It  seems  that  Si  Earrington's  hired  man,  Pete 
Davis,  was  takin'  away  the  Stickles'  only  cow,  when 
your  father  appeared  on  the  scene,  cut  the  rope,  set 
the  cow  free,  and  sent  Joe  off  in  a  hurry.  Earring- 
ton's  in  a  rage,  and  says  he'll  make  the  parson  smart 
fer  what  he  did.  He's  goin'  to  take  legal  action,  and  so 
I've  been  sent  to  serve  the  summons.  That's  all  I 
know  about  it,  Miss.  I'm  real  sorry,  but  what  else 
could  I  do  \  " 

Nellie  made  no  reply  when  the  man  ceased.     Words 


140  THE    FOURTH    WATCH 

would  not  come.  Her  bosom  heaved,  and  she  placed 
her  hand  to  her  forehead  in  an  abstracted  manner.  Her 
eyes  were  fixed  full  upon  the  constable's  face,  though 
she  did  not  see  him.  Her  thoughts  were  away  from 
that  room,  out  through  the  storm  and  darkness  to  an 
old  grey-headed  man  battling  somewhere  with  the  tem- 
pest, for  the  sake  of  others.  What  had  happened  ? 
What  would  he  think  when  he  reached  home  to  find 
out  what  Farrington  was  doing  ? 

The  constable  shifted  uneasily  from  one  foot  to  the 
other  in  an  embarrassed  manner  before  those  pathetic 
eyes.  He  clutched  his  cap  more  firmly  in  his  hands, 
and  shuffled  towards  the  door. 

"  Guess  I'll  go  now.  Miss,"  he  stammered.  "  I'll  step 
up  the  road  to  make  a  call  and  come  back  again. 
Maybe  your  father  will  be  home  then." 

Xcllie  hardly  heard  the  door  open  and  close  as  tho 
constable  passed  out  into  the  night.  She  stood  for 
awhile  as  if  dazed,  then  sinking  into  a  nearby  chair  she 
buried  her  face  in  her  hands.  The  wind  howled  and 
roared  outside,  and  the  snow  dashed  and  swirled  against 
the  window.  A  big  grey  cat  rose  from  its  position  be- 
fore the  fire,  came  and  rubbed  its  sleek  fur  against  her 
dress,  and  gently  purred  for  some  attention.  But 
Xellie  did  not  heed  it.  How  dark  all  seemed  to  her! 
One  thing  after  another!  Why  were  these  clouds  gath- 
ering so  thick  over  her  dear  father's  head  ?  It  did  not 
seem  possible  that  he  could  be  kept  in  ignorance  much 
longer.  It  was  sure  to  be  revealed  through  this  last 
trouble. 


DEEPENING    SHADOWS  141 

A'  sound  fell  upon  her  ears  which  made  her  look 
quickly  up.  Was  it  the  wind  ?  She  listened  with  fast- 
beating  heart.  Again  it  came — a  pathetic  whinny  out 
in  the  yard.  She  sprang  to  her  feet,  and  rushed  to  the 
back  door.  She  knew  that  call,  for  how  often  had  she 
heard  it !  Midnight  was  there,  standing  almost  at  the 
threshold.  Her  dim  form  could  be  seen  as  Nellie  peered 
out.  She  hurried  forth,  heedless  of  the  pelting  storm, 
expecting  to  hear  her  father's  voice.  But  no  cheery 
greeting  met  her,  neither  could  she  find  the  sleigh. 
Feeling  around  with  her  hands  she  felt  the  trailing 
shafts,  and  the  awful  truth  flashed  upon  her.  An 
accident  had  happened !  And  what  of  her  father  ?  For- 
getting the  horse  she  turned  back  into  the  house,  seized 
a  cloak,  threw  it  over  her  shoulders,  and  hurried  out 
into  the  storm.  How  the  wind  did  roar  about  her  as 
she  waded  and  half  stumbled  through  the  drifts,  which 
were  now  filling  the  road.  Anxiety  lent  speed  to  her 
feet.  She  dashed  on  her  way,  and  at  length  almost 
breathless  reached  the  Larkins'  house.  Upon  the  door 
she  beat  with  her  hands,  and  after  what  seemed  a  long 
time  Mr.  Larkins  made  his  appearance. 

"  Nellie !  Nellie !  "  he  exclaimed  in  affright,  as  she 
staggered  into  the  room.  "  What  in  the  world  is  the 
matter  ?    Tell  me,  quick !  " 

"  F — father's — had — an — a-a-ccident.  Midnight 

came  home  without  the  sleigh — dragging  the  shafts— 
oh,  what  can  we  do  ?  " 

"  Do  ?  "  was  the  reply.  "  We  shall  do  what  we  can ! 
I  shall  harness  the  horses  at  once,  get  several  of  the 


142  THE    FOURTH    WATCH 

neighbors,  and  go  in  search  of  Lira.  Don't  worry  too 
much,  Nellie.  To  he  pitched  out  of  the  sleigh  in  the  soft 
snow  is  not  so  bad.  No  doubt  we  shall  meet  him  and 
Dan  plodding  wearily  along." 

This  the  worthy  man  said  to  calm  Nellie's  fears, 
though  in  his  own  heart  there  was  real  anxiety,  and  ho 
was  not  long  in  placing  the  horses  fast  to  the  big  sled. 
But  before  he  left  he  stopped  to  turn  Midnight  into  tho 
barn  floor,  threw  on  her  blanket,  and  left  her  quietly 
munching  a  liberal  supply  of  hay. 

Mrs.  Larkins  was  not  long  in  making  her  appearance, 
and  did  what  she  could  to  bring  comfort  to  Nellie's 
anxious  heart.  She  also  went  with  her  back  to  the 
Rectory  to  await  her  husband's  return.  How  the  time 
did  drag  by  !  At  every  wild  gust  of  wind  Nellie  started 
and  trembled.  At  length,  however,  the  faint  sound  of 
bells  was  heard,  and  scarcely  had  the  panting,  snow- 
flecked  horses  stopped  at  the  door  ere  Nellie,  bare- 
headed, and  with  a  shawl  over  her  shoulders,  appeared. 

"  Father,  father!  "  she  cried,  as  she  rushed  forward, 
and  peered  into  the  familiar  face.     "  Are  you  safe  ?  w 

"  Yes,  dearie.  I  am  home  again,"  came  the  feeblo 
response. 

"  Oh,  thank  God !  "  she  replied,  throwing  her  arms 
around  his  neck,  and  kissing  him  again  and  again. 
"  What  a  night  this  has  been — a  horrible  nightmare !  " 

"  Come,  lassie,"  demanded  the  doctor.  "  Away  with 
you  into  the  house.  What  are  you  doing  out  here  in 
such  a  storm  ?    We'll  look  after  your  dad." 


CHAPTEE  XVI 
FOR  SWEET  LOVE'S  SAKE 

ALL  the  next  day  the  storm  continued  in  its 
unabated  fury.  The  roads  were  completely 
blocked  from  fence  to  fence,  and  all  sources  of 
communication  in  Glendow  were  cut  off.  Each  house 
was  a  little  world  of  its  own,  a  lighthouse  in  the  midst 
of  an  ocean  of  snow  where  the  long  drifts  piled  and 
curled  like  hungry  foaming  breakers. 

"  This  is  the  first  holiday  I've  had  for  some  time," 
chuckled  good  Doctor  Leeds  as  he  leaned  back  comfort- 
ably in  an  easy-chair,  and  puffed  away  at  his  pipe. 
"  ISTo  one  can  come  for  me  to-day,  that's  certain." 

Nellie,  too,  was  glad,  and  as  she  watched  the  storm 
from  the  window  a  feeling  of  relief  came  into  her  heart. 

"  Dear  storm,"  she  said  to  herself.  "  How  I  love 
you  to-day.  You  are  a  stern  protector,  keeping  out  all 
prying  eyes  and  malignant  tongues.  Mr.  Dobbins  will 
not  venture  out  while  you  are  abroad,  and  so  we  will 
have  peace  a  little  longer." 

Parson  John  passed  a  restless  night,  moaning  much 
from  the  pain  in  his  shoulder.  Towards  morning,  how- 
ever, he  passed  into  a  comfortable  sleep,  and  did  not 
wake  until  near  noon.  Nellie  and  the  doctor  had  a 
long  chat  together.    He  told  her  about  the  accident,  and 

143 


144  THE    FOURTH    WATCH 

she  related  to  him  the  incident  of  the  constable's  visit- 
to  the  Rectory. 

"The  brute!"  roared  the  doctor,  when  Nellie  had 
finished.  "  Farrington's  a  scoundrel!  Why  can't  he 
leave  decent  people  alone!  He's  always  meddling  with 
someone.  He's  never  happy  unless  he's  persecuting 
people.  Oh,  I've  known  him  for  years.  And  so  he 
wants  to  have  your  father  arrested,  does  he,  for  saving 
the  Stickles'  cow  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  Nellie  replied,  "  and  I'm  dreading  the  effect 
it  will  have  upon  my  father." 

"  I  see,  I  see,"  mused  the  doctor,  while  his  eyes 
closed  in  a  dreamy  sort  of  a  way.  "  It  will  not  be  for 
his  good,  that's  certain.  But  there's  a  way,  lassie, 
there's  a  way ;  don't  forget  that." 

"  What  do  you  mean,  Doctor  ?  " 

"  I  was  just  thinking  what  a  villain  Farrington  is, 
and  in  what  an  underhanded  way  he  works.  But  he 
leaves  a  loophole  every  time.  Let  me  tell  you  some- 
thing." 

Then  the  doctor  leaned  over,  and  what  he  said 
brought  back  the  colour  into  Nellie's  face,  and  made  her 
heart  beat  fast,  and  sent  her  about  her  household  duties 
with  a  new  spirit. 

During  the  next  night  the  storm  cleared,  and  the 
morning  sun  transformed  the  vast,  white  fields  into  a 
shining,  sparkling  glory.  ISTellie  was  early  astir,  fin- 
ished her  household  duties,  cared  for  her  father,  who 
was  steadily  improving,  ere  the  doctor  made  his  appear- 
ance. 


FOR    SWEET    LOVE'S    SAKE  145 

"  I'm  going  to  leave  you  in  charge  awhile  this  morn- 
ing," she  remarked  as  the  latter  was  eating  his  break- 
fast. "  The  day  is  bright  and  those  large  drifts  are 
so  tempting,  that  I  long  for  a  snowshoe  tramp.  I  have 
been  in  the  house  so  long  that  I  must  have  a  breath, 
of  fresh  air." 

"  Good !  "  replied  the  doctor.  "  It's  just  what  you 
need.  You  had  better  make  the  most  of  it,  too,  while 
I  am  here,  for  as  soon  as  the  roads  are  broken  I 
must  be  away.  There  are  many  patients  to  be  looked 
after." 

"  Thank  you,  Doctor,  very  much.  I  know  father  will 
not  mind  my  absence  for  a  short  time,"  Nellie  re- 
sponded, as  she  hurried  away  to  make  ready  for  her 
tramp. 

A  pretty  figure  she  presented  as  she  stood  a  little 
later  before  the  door  and  bade  the  doctor  good-bye. 
Snowshoeing  she  loved,  and  she  had  often  travelled  for 
miles  with  Stephen  in  the  clear  bracing  air.  But  to-day 
she  was  not  on  pleasure  bent,  and  her  heart  beat  fast 
as  she  moved  on  her  way.  jSTo  sign  of  life  did  she  see  as 
steadily  she  plodded  forward  over  the  yielding  snow. 
An  hour  later  when  she  stood  before  Earrington's  house 
and  laid  aside  her  snowshoes,  her  face  was  flushed  with 
a  healthy  glow  caused  by  the  vigorous  exercise.  Her 
courage  almost  failed  as  she  knocked  upon  the  door, 
and  waited  for  it  to  be  opened.  It  was  Mrs.  Earring- 
ton  who  came,  and  great  was  her  astonishment  when 
she  found  who  was  there. 

"  Why,  it's  ISTellie  Westmore,  I  do  declare !  "  she 
exclaimed.     "  Come  right  in,  dear,  and  lay  your  wraps 


146  THE    FOURTH    WATCH 

aside.     I'm  so  glad  to  see  ye.     But  bow  in  the  world 
did  ye  git  here  ?  " 

"  I  snowshoed  all  the  way,"  was  the  quiet  reply, 
"  and  I  have  come  to  see  Mr.  Farrington.     Is  he  in?  " 

"  Why  certainly.  lie's  in  the  store.  I'll  call  'im 
at  once,"  and  Mrs.  Farrington  bustled  off,  wondering 
what  in  the  world  brought  Nellie  on  such  a  morning. 

As  Farrington  entered  the  house  a  few  minutes  later, 
Nellie  rose  to  meet  him.  She  knew  that  now  was  tho 
crucial  moment,  and  a  prayer  went  up  from  her  heart 
for  guidance.  She  was  surprised  at  her  own  calmness 
as  she  looked  into  the  face  of  the  man  who  was  causing 
her  so  much  worry. 

"  I'm  very  glad  to  see  ye,  Nellie,"  and  Farrington 
stretched  out  a  big  fat  hand.     "  Set  down,  please." 

"  No,  thank  you,  Mr.  Farrington,"  Nellie  replied. 
"  I  prefer  to  stand.  I  do  not  wish  to  keep  you  long. 
I've  come  to  see  you  this  morning  on  behalf  of  my 
father." 

"  Umph !  "  ejaculated  Farrington,  as  he  threw  him- 
self into  an  easy-chair. 

"  You  know,"  continued  Nellie,  "  my  father  met  with 
a  bad  accident  night  before  last,  and  is  now  confined  to 
his  bed,  and  I  have  come  to  ask  you  not  to  let  Mr. 
Dobbins  trouble  him  while  he  is  in  his  weak  condition. 
I  feel  quite  sure  you  will  do  this." 

"  Ye  want  me  to  spare  'im,  do  ye  ? "  Farrington 
blurted  out.  "  Spare  the  man  who  has  injured  me 
above  measure !  " 

"  Indeed !    And  in  what  way  ?  "  Nellie  replied. 


FOR    SWEET    LOVE'S    SAKE  147 

"  In  what  way  ?  do  ye  ask.  Why,  didn't  he  outbid 
me  in  the  Frenelle  homestead  ?  Doesn't  he  refuse  to 
buy  goods  at  my  store;  an'  then,  to  cap  it  all,  inter- 
fered with  my  hired  man  when  he  went  after  that  cow  ? 
Hev  I  any  right  to  spare  'im  ?     Tell  me  that." 

"  You  have  the  right  of  consideration  for  an  old  man. 
My  father  is  aging  fast,  and  any  trouble  worries  him  so 
much.  He  doesn't  know  about  what  you  intend  to  do, 
and  I  hope  I  can  prevail  upon  you  to  go  no  further." 

Xellie's  voice  was  low  and  pathetic,  and  she  made 
some  impression  upon  Farrington?  for  when  she  had 
finished  he  did  not  at  once  reply.  He  sat  looking  at 
her,  thinking  how  pretty  she  was. 

"  Xellie,"  he  at  length  remarked,  "  we've  alius  been 
very  fond  of  ye.  We've  known  ye  ever  sense  ye  was  a 
baby,  an'  ye  seem  like  one  of  our  own.  Ye  hev  a  good 
eddication,  an'  bein'  a  lady  ye  are  well  fitted  to  adorn  a 
good  man's  home.  Xow,  our  Dick  is  a  most  promisin' 
feller,  who  thinks  a  sight  of  ye,  so  if  ye'd  consent  to 
look  upon  him  favourably,  it  ud  please  us  all  mighty 
well.    Besides " 

"  Mr.  Farrington  !  "  interrupted  Xellie,  "  what  do 
you  mean  ?     What  do  I  understand  vou  to  say  ?     Do 


you 

"  Wait  a  minute,  my  dear,"  remonstrated  Farring- 
ton.  "  It's  jist  as  well  fer  ye  to  consider  this  reason- 
able proposition  fust  as  last.  Yer  dad's  gittin'  old  now, 
so  he  can't  last  much  longer ;  an'  ye'll  hev  a  home." 

"  An'  jist  think,  Xellie  dear,"  spoke  up  Mrs. 
Farrington,  "  what  an  advantage  it'll  be  to  ye.     Rich- 


148  THE    FOURTH    WATCH 

arrTll  inherit  the  hull  of  our  property  some  day.  He 
will  he  a  gentleman,  an'  the  son  of  a  gentleman,  too — of 
a  good  old  fambly.  It'll  be  a  very  gratifyin'  thing,  too, 
fur  ye  to  know  that  Richard's  father  was  a  Councillor 
of  Glendow.  So  now,  dear,  give  up  that  uncouth  Fre- 
nelle  boy,  an'  take  on  with  our  son  Richard." 

Nellie's  cheeks  were  flushed  a  deep  crimson  now,  and 
her  eyes  were  flashing  with  an  angry  light.  Her  heart 
was  filled  with  disgust  at  these  cool,  self-satisfied  sche- 
mers. Had  they  been  less  confident  of  thoir  own  import- 
ance they  would  have  realized  that  they  were  treading 
on  dangerous  ground.  They  could  not  comprehend  that 
back  of  Nellie's  quiet,  reserved  demeanour  there  was  a 
moral  courage  which  would  rise  to  any  height  of  self- 
sacrifice  at  the  call  of  duty,  or  in  defence  of  those  she 
loved.  They  had  known  her  from  childhood,  and  to 
natures  such  as  theirs  her  gentleness  and  retiring  dis- 
position were  interpreted  as  weakness  or  lack  of  proper 
spirit.  To  be  suddenly  awakened  from  such  an  idea 
was  startling  in  the  extreme. 

"  Mr.  Farrington,"  Nellie  replied,  holding  herself  in 
cheek  with  a  mighty  effort,  "  I  am  very  much  aston- 
ished at  the  words  I  have  just  heard.  I  came  here  to 
talk  to  you  as  a  lady  would  talk  to  a  gentleman.  But 
great  is  my  surprise  to  be  insulted  to  my  face.  You 
have  no  right  to  speak  to  me  as  you  have  done  this 
morning,  or  to  take  such  liberties  as  regards  Stephen. 
Frenelle.  He  is  a  real  gentleman's  son,  and  has  the 
true  instincts  of  a  gentleman.  We  were  children  to- 
gether, and  I  do  not  wish  you  to  speak  of  him  or  any 


FOR    SWEET    LOVE'S    SAKE  149 

friend  of  mine  in  a  slighting  manner.  As  to  your  re- 
marks in  reference  to  your  son,  they  are  so  unworthy 
of  a  father  and  mother  that  they  arouse  in  me  the  feel- 
ings of  deepest  pity  for  you.  I  blush  to  think  that  you 
should  ever  suggest  such  a  thing,  and  am  surprised 
that  your  better  nature  does  not  assert  itself,  and  cause 
you  to  cover  your  heads  in  shame  for  having  uttered 
such  words." 

IsTellie  spoke  rapidly  with  her  eyes  fixed  full  upon 
Farrington's  face.  The  latter  shifted  uneasily  at  this 
torrent  of  words,  and  occasionally  glanced  at  his  wife, 
who  was  sitting  near  with  open-mouthed  wonder. 

"  Dear  me,  dear  me !  "  Mrs.  Farrington  replied.  u  I 
alius  thought  ye  was  sich  a  nice,  modest  little  thing,  an' 
to  think  that  ye  should  go  on  like  this.  What  would 
yer  dear  mother  think  if  she  was  livin'  \  " 

"  You  are  a  mother,  Mrs.  Farrington,"  Nellie  re- 
sponded, "  and  what  would  you  think  if  anyone  made 
such  a  proposition  to  Eudora  as  you  have  made  to  me  %  " 

"  Oh,  that's  a  different  question." 

11  And  in  what  way  ?  " 

"  Oh,  Eudora  will  hev  money,  an'  will  not  be  left 
penniless,  while  you  an'  yer  father  are  jist  dependin' 
upon  the  parish." 

"  Yes,  I  know  it  only  too  well,"  Xellie  bitterly  an- 
swered. "  We  are  little  more  than  paupers,  trusting  to 
the  voluntary  offerings  of  the  people  for  our  support. 
But  then,  this  has  little  to  do  with  what  I  came  here  for. 
We  have  wandered  from  the  subject.  I  came  simply  to 
speak  on  behalf  of  my  father." 


150  THE    FOURTH    WATCH 

"  Oh,  that  matter's  settled  now  once  and  fer  all," 
Farrington  replied  in  a  cool,  matter-of-fact  manner. 
"  Ye've  taken  the  bizness  into  yer  own  hands.  We've 
made  ye  a  good  offer,  an'  ye've  refused  pint  blank,  so 
we'll  consider  this  little  affair  atween  us  settled.  Sam 
Dobbins  is  in  the  store  waitin'  fer  me,  so  I  shall  tell  'im 
to  go  ahead  an'  serve  the  summons." 

"  Stop  a  minute,"  Nellie  demanded,  as  Farrington 
rose  to  his  feet,  stretched  himself,  and  started  leisurely 
towards  the  door. 

"  There's  something  you  evidently  have  not  consid- 
ered which  might  change  matters  a  little.  I  came  here 
this  morning  trusting  to  get  your  consent  to  leave  my 
father  alone  without  any  unnecessary  trouble.  I  ap- 
pealed to  your  manhood,  but  in  vain.  Now,  there  is 
only  one  course  open  to  me,  which  I  will  be  obliged  to 
take." 

"  Hey,  what's  this  ?  "  and  Farrington's  brow  knitted 
in  perplexity.     "  I  don't  understand  you." 

"  No,  certainly  you  don't,  but  you  will  presently.  I 
would  like  to  ask  who  it  was  you  sent  out  after  the 
Stickles'  cow?" 

"Why,  Pete,  of  course;  my  hired  man.  lie  alius 
does  that  work  fer  me,  an'  has  taken  dozens  of  'em  at 
various  times." 

"  Yes,  so  I  have  heard,"  and  Nellie's  voice  was 
charged  with  a  warning  note.  "  But  were  you  not 
afraid  of  the  risk  you  were  running,  Mr.  Farrington  ?  " 

"  Risk  ?  what  risk  ?  I  nerer  had  any  trouble.  What 
do  you  mean  !  " 


FOR    SWEET    LOVE'S    SAKE  151 

"  But  is  Pete  a  constable  ?  " 

"  A  constable,  be  blowed !  What  are  ye  drivin' 
at?" 

"  Did  he  have  a  warrant  from  a  magistrate  to  go  to 
the  Stickles'  place,  open  the  door,  enter  the  barn,  and 
try  to  take  away  that  cow  ?  " 

"  N-no,  certainly  not.  But  he  never  had  one  afore, 
an*  everything  was  all  right." 

"  Tes,  it  was  all  right  as  far  as  you  were  concerned, 
because  no  one  interfered,  and  the  people  were  always 
too  poor  to  make  a  fuss.  But  do  you  know  that  you 
have  laid  yourself  open  to  a  grave  offence  ?  In  the  eyes 
of  the  law  you  tried  to  steal  that  cow  from  the 
Stickles." 

"  Girl !  Girl !  What  do  ye  mean  by  talkin'  this 
way  ?  "  and  Farrington  bounded  from  his  chair  in  a 
rage.  "  Explain  to  me  at  once  what  ye  mean  by  sich 
words !  " 

"  There's  nothing  much  to  explain,  Mr.  Farrington. 
Without  a  warrant,  or  any  legal  authority,  you  sent 
your  servant  to  break  into  a  private  barn,  and  lead  away 
a  cow  belonging  to  Mr.  Stickles.  Because  my  father 
interfered  you  wish  to  have  him  arrested.  I  hope 
you  see  the  point." 

Farrington  was  certainly  a  study  just  then.  His 
eyes  glowered,  and  his  face  was  inflamed  with  rage. 
He  was  in  a  trap  and  he  knew  it. 

"  Te'll  pay  fer  this !  "  he  cried,  stamping  upon  the 
floor,  in  anger.    "Te'll— Te'll !" 


152  TUE    FOURTH    WATCH 

"  Very  well,"  Xellie  calmly  replied.  "  I've  simply 
told  you  your  position,  so  now  if  you  wish  to  go  ahead, 
do  so.  You  will  know  what  to  expect.  Perhaps  I  have 
been  a  better  friend  to  you  than  you  now  imagine.  Re- 
member, we  have  friends,  who  know  a  thing  or  two,  and 
besides,  if  you  are  not  careful,  something  may  go  wrong 
on  election  day." 

"  Who  told  you  this,  girl  ?  "  Farrington  demanded. 
"  Who  put  ye  up  to  this  bizness  ?  " 

"  That's  my  own  affair.  I  have  warned  you,  so  go 
ahead  if  you  care  to.     I  shall  say  no  more." 

With  that  she  turned  and  walked  quietly  out  of  the 
house,  put  on  her  snowshoes,  and  started  on  her  home- 
ward way.  But  the  trying  ordeal  through  which  she 
had  passed  told  upon  her.  She  trembled  violently,  and 
a  great  weakness  came  over  her.  She  felt  that  ske 
would  sink  down  upon  the  snow.  How  could  she  con- 
tinue ?  She  looked  all  around,  but  no  sign  of  life  could 
she  behold ;  no  one  to  aid  her.  What  was  she  to  do  ? 
She  thought  of  her  father.  Was  he  waiting  for  her, 
perhaps  wondering  where  she  was  ?  With  a  great  effort 
she  moved  slowly  forward,  and  presently  found  her 
strength  returning.  On  and  on  she  plodded.  ISTever 
had  the  snowshoes  seemed  so  heavy,  or  the  way  so  long, 
and  right  glad  was  she  to  see  at  last  the  Rectory  rise  up. 
large  and  homelike  before  her.  She  reached  the  door, 
doffed  the  snowshoes,  entered  the  house,  hurried  to  her 
own  room,  and  throwing  herself  upon  her  bed,  wept  as 
if  her  heart  would  break.  She  was  tired — oh,  so  tired. 
The  tears  brought  a  blessed  relief  to  her  surcharged  feel- 


FOR    SWEET    LOVE'S    SAKE  153 

ings,  and  when  she  at  length  sought  her  father's  side 
a  sunny  smile  illumined  her  face,  her  step  was  firm, 
and  little  remained  to  show  to  a  casual  observer  the 
fierce  struggle  through  which  she  had  recently  passed. 


CHAPTER  XVII 
HITTING  BACK 

FARRINGTON  said  very  little  after  Nellie's  de- 
parture, lie  even  surprised  his  wife  by  bis  cool- 
ness, for  instead  of  raging,  swearing  aad  stamp- 
ing around  the  house  he  walked  quietly  out  into  the 
store.  Here  he  busied  himself  with  various  matters, 
and  talking  at  times  to  the  few  customers  who  straggled 
in.  "When  no  one  was  present  he  sat  on  a  high  stool  by 
the  window  and  gazed  out  over  the  snow.  He  was  not 
thinking  of  money  now,  nor  how  much  his  eggs  and 
butter  would  bring.  His  mind  was  dwelling  upon  that 
scene  which  had  just  taken  place.  He  thought  nothing 
of  the  brave  defence  Nellie  had  made  on  behalf  of  her 
father,  but  only  of  his  own  wounded  feelings.  At  times 
his  hands  would  clinch,  and  a  half-audible  curse  escape 
his  lips.  lie  would  get  even,  oh,  yes !  But  how  ?  He 
saw  the  danger  of  going  any  further  in  connection  with 
the  Stickles'  cow  affair.  He  must  let  that  drop.  There 
were  other  ways,  he  was  sure  of  that ;  the  difficulty  was 
to  know  just  what  to  do. 

The  door  opened,  and  a  tall,  lanky  man  entered,  with 
a  pair  of  skates  dangling  over  his  left  shoulder. 

"Hello,    Miles!"    exclaimed    Farrington,    hurrying 
around  to  shake  hands  with  him.     "  Haven't  seen  you 

154 


HITTING    BACK  155 

fer  an  age.  What's  the  news  at  Craig's  Corner?  Set 
down,  you  look  about  tuckered  out." 

"  Should  say  I  was,"  Miles  drawled  forth.  "  Never 
got  into  such  a  mess  in  all  my  life.  Skated  down  river 
Sunday  evening  and  was  caught  in  that  blasted  snow- 
storm, and  so  am  footing  it  back." 

"  Dear  me,  that's  hard  luck,"  and  Farrington  sat 
down  upon  a  soap-box.  "  Anyway,  I'm  mighty  glad  to 
see  ye.  Hope  things  are  goin'  well  at  the  Corner. 
Much  election  talk,  eh  ?  " 

"  Considerable.  The  air's  been  full  of  it  lately, 
but  I  guess  Sunday's  doings  will  give  the  folks  a  new 
subject  for  awhile.     'Twas  certainly  a  stunner !  " 

"  Why,  what  do  ye  mean,  Miles  ?  Nobody  killed, 
I  hope." 

"  What !     Haven't  you  heard  anything  ?  " 

"  No,  how  could  I  with  the  storm  blockin'  the  roads." 

"  Sure.  I  never  thought  of  that.  But  I  supposed  the 
parson  let  it  out." 

"  The  parson !  "  and  Farrington's  eyes  opened  wide 
with  amazement.  "  What  in  the  devil  has  he  to  do  with 
it  ?  He  was  brought  home  night  afore  last  with  his 
shoulder  out  of  jint." 

"  Whew !    You  don't  say  so  !    Well,  I  declare !  " 

"  Tell  me  what  ye  mean,  man,"  exclaimed  Farring- 
'ton,  moving  impatiently  on  his  seat.  "Let's  have  the 
yarn." 

"  Ha-ha  !  It  was  a  corker !  Just  think  of  it ;  a  funeral 
procession  moving  slowly  across  the  river,  with  Tim 
Fraser  and  Parson  John  racing  by  like  a  whirlwind.    I 


156  THE    FOURTH    WATCH 

never  saw  anything  like  it,  ha-ha !  "  and  Miles  leaning 
back  laughed  loud  and  long  at  the  recollection. 

Farrington  was  all  attention  now.  A  gleam  of  de- 
light shone  in  his  eyes,  and  a  faint  sigh  of  relief  escaped 
his  lips.  He  controlled  his  eagerness,  however,  for  ho 
wished  to  draw  Miles  out,  and  learn  the  whole  story. 

"  Ye  don't  mean  to  tell  me,"  he  remarked,  "  that  the 
parson  was  racin'  on  Sunday?  Surely  ye  must  be 
mistaken !  " 

"  I'm  a  liar  then,"  calmly  replied  the  other,  gazing 
thoughtfully  down  at  his  boots.  "  Yes,  I'm  a  liar,  and  a 
fool !  Why,  didn't  I  see  the  whole  thing  with  my  own 
eyes?  And  didn't  all  the  people  of  Craig's  Corner  see 
it,  too  ?    Ask  them,  they'll  tell  you  the  same." 

"  I  don't  doubt  yer  word,  Miles,  but  it's  so  unusual. 
Tho  parson  never  did  anything  like  that  before,  did 
he?" 

"  Xot  to  my  knowledge.  But  he's  mighty  fond 
of  a  horse,  and  a  fast  one  at  that,  so  I  guess  when 
Tim  Fraser  clipped  up  he  couldn't  resist  the  tempta- 
tion." 

"  Did  he  explain  about  it?  Did  he  tell  how  it  hap- 
pened ?  " 

"  He  didn't  say  much.  I  heard  him  tell  some  people 
that  he  never  let  the  devil  get  ahead  of  him,  and  he  was 
bound  he  wouldn't  do  it  that  time." 

"  Ho-ho !     That's  what  he  said?    Xothing  more ?  " 

"  Xo,  not  that  I  heard.  I  came  away  after  that,  so 
nothing  new  has  reached  me  since,  except  what  you  tell 
me.    Is  he  badly  injured  ?  " 


HITTING    BACK  157 

"  I  don't  know.  Guess  he'll  come  out  all  right ;  he 
generally  does." 

"  He  looked  very  well  on  Sunday.  I'm  really  sorry 
he's  met  with  this  accident." 

"  Mebbe  it  had  something  to  do  with  the  race,"  sug- 
gested Farrington. 

"In  what  way?" 

"  Perhaps  it's  a  punishment  fer  what  he  did  on  Sun- 
day." 

"  Surely,  you  don't  say — !  "  and  Miles'  mouth  opened 
in  surprise. 

"  Oh,  I  don't  say  anything  fer  certain.  I  only  know 
that  sich  things  sometimes  do  happen.  A  man  who  will 
race  on  the  Sacred  Day  of  Rest  must  expect  almost  any- 
thing to  happen.  I've  known  of  several  sich  cases. 
Something  generally  does  happen." 

"  You  don't  say  so !    Well !  " 

"  Now  honestly,"  continued  Farrington  very  deliber- 
ately, "  do  ye  think  sich  a  man  is  fit  to  be  the  minister 
of  the  Gospel  in  Glendow  ?  Do  ye  think  a  man  who 
stands  in  church  on  Sunday  an'  reads  them  solemn  word3 
about  keepin'  the  Sabbath  Day  holy,  an'  then  goes  out 
on  the  ice  an'  engages  in  a  horse-race — do  ye  think  sich 
a  man  is  fit  to  teach  our  people  ?  What  an  example  to 
set  our  children!  When  we  tell  'em  to  remember  the 
Day  an'  keep  it  holy,  they  will  say,  '  Oh,  the  parson 
raced  his  horse  on  Sunday !  '  Oh,  yes,  that's  what 
they'll  say.  So  you  see  what  a  condition  the  parish  will 
he  in." 

"  Well,   I  never  thought  of  it  that  way,"   replied 


158  THE    FOURTH    WATCH 

Miles,  rising  to  his  feet.  "  But  I  must  be  off.  T  see 
the  road  is  being  broken." 

"When  the  man  had  left  the  store  Farrington  stood 
for  some  time  with  his  hands  clasped  behind  his  back. 
He  was  in  deep  thought,  and  occasionally  his  lips  curled 
with  a  pleased  smile,  ne  then  walked  to  the  window, 
and  watched  the  men  breaking  the  roads.  lie  saw  his 
own  hired  man,  Pete  Davis,  among  the  rest.  Most 
of  the  able-bodied  men  of  the  neighbourhood  were  there 
with  shovels  and  teams.  It  was  an  inspiring  sight  to 
see  team  after  team  in  a  long  procession  plowing  their 
way  forward  among  the  high  drifts.  "Where  the  snow 
was  light  the  leading  horses  would  plunge  through, 
blowing,  snorting,  struggling,  and  at  times  almost  hid- 
den from  view.  In  places  shovels  had  to  be  used  and 
then  cuttings,  narrow  and  deep,  were  made  through  tho 
banks,  just  wide  enough  for  one  team  to  move  at  a  time. 
For  hours  the  work  had  been  carried  on,  and  at  length 
the  last  drift  had  been  conquered,  and  communication 
from  place  to  place  once  again  opened  up. 

Farrington  watching  the  horses  surging  through  was 
not  thinking  of  the  fine  appearance  they  presented. 
His  mind  was  upon  a  far  different  matter.  lie  stood 
there,  saw  the  teams  swing  around  and  finally  disappear 
up  the  road.  It  pleased  him  to  see  Miles  riding  upon 
one  of  the  sleds.  His  ready  tongue  was  as  good  as  a 
newspaper,  and  he  would  spread  the  story  of  the  Sun- 
day race  wherever  he  went. 

Mrs.  Farrington  was  surprised  at  her  husband's 
jocular  manner  when  he  was  called  to  dinner.    lie  joked 


HITTING    BACK  159 

and  laughed  more  than  he  had  done  in  many  a  day. 
Not  a  word  did  he  say  about  Nellie's  visit;  in  fact  he 
seemed  to  have  forgotten  all  about  it. 

"  Ye  must  have  done  a  good  bizness  this  inornin',  Si," 
his  wife  remarked.  "  I  haven't  seen  ye  in  sich  fine 
spirits  in  a  long  time." 

"  Haven't  sold  as  much  as  usual,  my  dear,"  was 
the  reply.  "  Didn't  expect  to  anyway,  as  the  roads  have 
jist  been  broken." 

"  But  ye  seem  very  happy.  Has  anything  remarkable 
occurred  ?  " 

"  Simply  an  idea,  my  dear,  simply  an  idea." 

"  Well,  well,  who'd  a  thought  it.  I  didn't  know  that 
an  idea  'ud  make  one  feel  so  good.  Tell  me  about  itj 
Si." 

"  No,  not  now.  I  haven't  time.  Besides,  I  want  to 
see  how  it'll  work,  an'  then  I'll  surprise  ye." 

Farrington  rose  from  the  table,  and  going  to  the 
store  went  at  once  to  the  small  office.  Here  he  spent 
some  time  writing,  and  at  the  end  of  a  half  hour  gave  a 
chuckle  of  satisfaction,  laid  aside  the  pen,  folded  up 
the  paper  and  put  it  into  his  pocket.  Next  he  went 
into  the  stable,  and  ordered  Pete  to  harness  the  horse 
and  have  it  at  the  door  in  fifteen  minutes.  At  the  end 
of  that  time  he  came  from  the  house,  wrapped  in  his 
large  fur  coat,  cap  and  mittens.  Soon  he  was  speeding 
over  the  road,  leaving  Mrs.  Farrington,  Eudora  and 
Dick  watching  him  from  the  window,  and  wondering 
what  it  all  meant. 

Farrington  was  forth  upon  important  business,  and 


1G0  THE    FOURTH    WATCH 

he  knew  exactly  at  what  houses  to  stop.  There  were  the 
Fletchers,  he  was  sure  of  them ;  the  Marshalls,  their 
kinsmen;  the  Burtons,  and  several  families  who  owed 
fair-sized  bills  at  the  store,  and  would  he  unable  to  pay 
for  some  time. 

The  sun  was  dipping  big  and  red  far  westward  when 
Farrington  turned  his  horse's  head  homeward.  Ho  was 
well  pleased  with  his  afternoon's  work.  Xo  one  had 
refused  to  sign  the  petition  he  carried,  and  over  twenty 
names  had  been  scrawled  upon  the  paper. 

As  he  moved  along  his  eyes  rested  upon  a  little 
cottage  away  to  the  right,  nestling  near  a  grove  of  large 
maple  trees.  Old  Henry  Burchill,  the  wood-chopper, 
lived  there.  Farrington's  brows  knitted  as  he  thought  of 
him.  Would  he  sign  the  paper  ?  He  knew  that  Henry 
was  once  opposed  to  the  parson  for  introducing  certain 
things  into  the  church.  But  then  that  was  long  ago, 
and  he  wondered  how  the  old  man  felt  now.  Any- 
way there  was  that  unpaid  bill  at  the  store.  It  would 
have  some  weight,  and  it  was  no  harm  to  try. 

Mrs.  Burchill  was  at  home,  and  was  surprised  to  see 
the  storekeeper  enter  the  house.  She  was  a  quiet,  re- 
served woman,  who  mingled  little  with  her  neighbours. 
The  lines  of  care  upon  her  face,  the  bent  back  and  the 
toil-worn  hands  told  their  own  tale  of  a  long,  hard  battle 
for  life's  bare  necessities.  Her  heart  beat  fast  as  she 
shook  hands  with  her  visitor,  for  she,  too,  thought  of 
that  bill  at  the  store,  which  she  and  her  husband  had 
been  bravely  striving  to  pay. 

"  Is  yer  husband  at  home,  Mrs.  Burchill  ?  "  asked 


HITTING    BACK  161 

Farrington,  seating  himself  on  a  splint-bottomed  chair. 

"  No,  sir.  He's  in  the  woods  chopping  for  Stephen. 
I'm  afraid  he  won't  be  home  to-night." 

"Dear  me!  that's  too  bad,"  and  Farrington  brought 
forth  the  paper  from  his  pocket.  "  I  wanted  'im  to  do 
a  little  favour  fer  me — simply  to  put  his  name  to  this 
pertition.  But,  if  you'll  do  it,  'twill  be  jist  the  same/7 
and  he  handed  over  the  paper. 

Mrs.  Burchill  put  on  her  glasses,  and  slowly  and  care- 
fully read  the  words  written  there.  Farrington  watched 
her  closely  and  noted  the  colour  mounting  to  her  faded 
cheeks,  and  the  look  of  reproach  in  her  eyes  as  she  at 
length  turned  them  upon  his  face. 

"  And  you  expect  me  to  put  my  name  to  this  %  "  she 
demanded. 

"  An'  why  not  ?  "  smiled  Farrington.  "  Have  you 
read  what  the  paper  sez  ?  " 

"  Yes,  every  word." 

"  An'  don't  ye  think  there's  a  reason  why  ye  should 
sign  it  ?  Don't  ye  think  the  Bishop  should  know  what 
kind  of  a  parson  we  have  ?  " 

"  Mr.  Farrington,"  and  Mrs.  Burchill  spoke  very  de- 
liberately, "  if  the  Angel  Gabriel  himself  came  with 
that  paper  for  me  to  sign  I  should  refuse.  I'm  an  old 
woman  now,  and  why  should  I  commit  such  a  sin  in 
my  declining  years  ?  " 

"  Sin !  what  sin  would  ye  commit  in  simply  signin' 
that  paper  ?  "  Farrington  demanded. 

Mrs.  Burchill  did  not  reply  at  once,  but  placing  her 


162  THE    FOURTH    WATCH 

hand  upon  a  Bible  lying  by  her  side  she  reverently 
opened  it. 

"  Listen  to  these  words,"  she  said.  "  They  are  not 
mine,  rom ember,  but  the  Lord's.  '  Touch  not  mine 
anointed/  He  says,  'and  do  my  prophets  no  harm.' 
Now  Parson  John  is  one  of  the  Lord's  anointed,  set 
apart  for  a  sacred  work,  and  it's  a  dangerous  thing  to 
strive  against  Him." 

"  Tut,  tut,  woman!  That's  all  rubbish !  Them  things 
happened  in  olden  days.  Besides,  we  have  a  just 
grievance.  lie  is  interferin'  too  much  with  the  affairs 
of  others.  He  takes  too  much  upon  himself.  Then, 
what  about  that  race  on  Sunday  \  Do  ye  think  we 
should  stand  that  ?  " 

"  Ah,  sir,  it's  the  same  old  story.  Don't  you  re- 
member how  people  said  the  very  same  thing  about 
Moses  and  Aaron,  long,  long  ago.  They  said  that  those 
two  men  were  taking  too  much  upon  them,  and  a  re- 
bellion ensued.  And  what  was  the  result?  The  Lord 
punished  the  people,  the  earth  opened  and  swallowed 
them  up.  I  often  read  that  story  to  Henry  in  the  even- 
ings, and  it  makes  us  feel  very  serious.  Oh,  yes,  it's 
a  dangerous  thing  to  interfere  with  the  Lord's  anointed. 
Something's  bound  to  happen  to  the  ones  who  do  it." 

Farrington  could  stand  this  no  longer.  He  had  met 
with  such  success  during  the  afternoon  that  to  hear  this 
rebuke  from  Mrs.  Burchill  was  most  annoying. 

"  "Woman  !  "  he  exclaimed,  rising  to  his  feet.  "  I 
don't  want  to  hear  all  this.  I  didn't  come  here  to  be 
preached  to  about  sich  old-fashioned  trash  as  the  '  Lord's 


HITTING    BACK  163 

anointed!'  I  came  here  to  git  ye  to  sign  that  paper, 
an'  not  to  be  preached  to!  Will  ye  sign  it  or  will  ye 
not  ? " 

"  iSTo,  I  shall  not  sign  it !  "  was  the  quiet  response. 

"  Very  well,  then,  that's  all  I  want  to  know.  But 
remember,  Mrs.  Burchill,  there's  a  little  unpaid  account 
on  my  books  against  your  husband.  Please  tell  'im  to 
call  and  settle  it  at  once.  If  not — oh,  well  you  know  the 
result,"  and  Farrington  looked  significantly  around  the 
room.    "  So,  good-day.    I  must  be  off." 

Mrs.  Burchill  stood  at  the  window  and  watched  Far- 
rington drive  away.  Then  a  sigh  escaped  her  lips.  She 
went  back  to  the  chair  where  she  had  been  sitting,  and 
kneeling  down  buried  her  face  in  her  hands.  For  some 
time  she  remained  in  prayer,  but  her  earnest  pleadings 
were  not  for  herself  or  her  husband,  but  for  the  old 
grey-headed  man — the  Venerable  Rector  of  Glendow, 


CHAPTER  XVIII 
WASH-TUB   PHILOSOPHY 

I'VE  been  up  to  me  neck  in  soap-suds  ever  sense 
daybreak,  an'  I  ain't  done  jit." 

So  declared  Mrs.  Stickles  as  sho  wiped  her  hands 
upon  her  apron  and  offered  a  chair  to  her  visitor,  Betsy 
McKrigger. 

"  I'm  rale  glad  to  see  ye,  nevertheless,"  she  con- 
tinued, "  fer  it's  been  a  month  of  Sundays  sense  I 
sot  eyes  on  ye  last.  How've  ye  been?  An'  yer  old 
man,  is  he  well  ?  " 

"  Only  fairly,"  replied  Mrs.  McKrigger,  laying  aside 
her  bonnet  and  shawl,  and  taking  the  proffered  chair. 
"  Abraham  went  to  the  mill  this  mornin'  an'  I  came  this 
fer  with  'im.  We  were  clean  out  of  flour,  an',  although 
the  roads  are  bad,  there  was  no  help  fer  it,  so  he  had 
to  go,  poorly  as  he  is.  He'll  stop  fer  me  on  his  way 
back." 

"  An'  what's  wrong  with  'im  ?  "  asked  Mrs.  Stickles, 
going  back  to  her  washing. 

"  The  doctor  thinks  he's  got  delapitation  of  the  heart. 
Abraham  was  never  very  strong  there,  and  suffers  most 
after  eatin'.    I'm  gittin'  very  nervous  about  'im." 

"  Oh,  is  that  all  ?  "  and  Mrs.  Stickles  paused  in  her 
work.     "  I  wouldn't  worry  about  that.     Mebbe  he  eats 

164 


WASH-TUB    PHILOSOPHY  165 

too  much.  Men's  hearts  an'  stummicks  are  purty 
closely  kernected,  an'  what  affects  the  one  affects  t'other. 
It's  indisgestion  the  man's  got — that's  what  'tis.  It's 
a  wonder  to  me  they  don't  all  hev  it." 

"  Mebbe  yer  right,  Mrs.  Stickles.  Abraham  is  cer- 
tainly a  big  eater.  But  it  wasn't  eatin'  which  gave  'im 
the  delapitation  yesterday." 

"  What  was  it,  then  ?  " 

"  It  was  Si  Farrington  who  gave  it  to  'im.  That's 
who  it  was." 

"Ugh!"  ejaculated  Mrs.  Stickles.  "Surely  a  cur 
like  that  wouldn't  affect  anyone,  would  it?  I'm  jist 
waitin'  to  run  agin  Farrington  meself,  an'  then  we'll 
see  who'll  hev  palputation  of  the  heart.  It'll  not  be 
me,  I  reckon." 

"  It's  very  true  what  ye  say,"  replied  Mrs.  McKrig- 
ger,  bringing  forth  her  knitting,  "  but  when  ye  owe 
the  man  a  bill  at  the  store,  an'  heven't  the  money  to  pay, 
it  makes  a  big  difference." 

"  So  he's  been  at  you,  has  he  ?  I  s'pose  he's  been 
tryin'  to  git  yer  cow,  horse  or  farm.  He  tried  it  here, 
but  Parson  John,  bless  his  soul,  soon  stopped  that." 

"  ISTo,  not  like  that.  He  only  hinted  what  he'd  do  if 
Abraham  didn't  sign  the  pertition." 

"  Oh,  I  see.  He's  goin'  to  run  fer  councillor,  an' 
wanted  yer  husband  to  sign  his  denomination  paper, 
did  he  ?  " 

"  Xo,  no,  not  that.    It's  about  the  parson." 

"  What !  Parson  John  ?  " 

"  Yes,  it's  about  'im,  poor  man." 


166  TIIE    FOURTH    WATCH 

"  Land  sakcs !  What's  up  now  ?  "  and  Mrs.  Stickles 
paused  in  her  work  and  stood  with  arms  akimbo. 

"  Farrington  thinks  the  parson's  too  old  fer  the  work, 
an'  that  we  should  hev  a  young  man  with  snap  an'  vim, 
like  Mr.  Sparks,  of  Leedsville.  He  believes  the  young 
people  need  to  be  stirred  up;  that  they're  gittin'  tired 
of  the  old  humdrum  way,  an'  that  the  parish  is  goin' 
to  the  dogs.  But  that  wasn't  all.  ITe  thinks  the  parson 
isn't  a  fit  man  to  be  here  after  that  disgraceful  racin' 
scene  on  the  river  last  Sunday.  lie  sez  it's  an  awful 
example  to  the  young.  So  he's  gittin'  up  the  pertition 
to  send  to  the  Bishop." 

Mrs.  Stickles  had  left  the  wash-tub  now  and  was 
standing  before  her  visitor.  Anger  was  expressed  in 
her  every  movement. 

"  An'  do  ye  tell  me !  "  she  demanded,  "  that  yer  hus- 
band signed  that  paper?" 

"  W-what  else  was  there  to  do  ?  "  and  Mrs.  McTvrigger 
dropped  her  knitting  and  shrank  back  from  the  irate 
form  before  her.     "  How  could  he  help  it  2  " 

"  Betsy  McKrigger,  I  never  thought  ye'd  come  to 
this.  Help  it!  Why  didn't  yer  husband  help  Farring- 
ton out  of  the  door  with  the  toe  of  his  boot  ?  " 

"  But  think  of  that  unpaid  bill,  Mrs.  Stickles." 

"Unpaid  bill,  be  fiddlesticks!  Would  ye  turn 
aginst  yer  best  earthly  friend  fer  the  sake  of  a  bill  ?  " 

"What  else  could  we  do?" 

"  Do  ?  Let  yer  cow  or  anything  else  go !  What  do 
sich  things  amount  to  when  yer  honour's  at  stake.  Dear 
me,  dear  me !  has  it  come  to  this  ?  " 


WASH-TUB    PHILOSOPHY  167, 

"  Te  needn't  make  sich  a  fuss  about  the  matter," 
and  Mrs.  McKrigger  bristled  up  a  bit.  "  It's  a  purty 
serious  thing  when  yer  whole  livin's  in  the  fryin'-pan." 

"  Livin',  livin' !  Where  does  yer  livin'  come  from 
anyway,  Mrs.  McKrigger?  Doesn't  the  Lord  send  it? 
I  reckon  He'll  look  after  us.  Didn't  He  tend  to  old 
'Lijah  when  he  done  his  duty.  Didn't  the  ravens  feed 
'im  ?  An'  what  about  that  widee  of  Jerrypath  ?  Didn't 
her  meal  and  ile  last  when  she  done  what  was  right  ? 
Tell  me  that !  " 

"  Oh,  yes,  that  may  be  as  ye  say.  I  ain't  botherin' 
about  old  'Lijah  an'  that  widow.  If  them  people  lived 
to-day  they'd  jine  forces  an'  start  the  biggest  flour  an' 
ile  company  the  world  has  ever  seen.  I  wish  'Lijah  'ud 
come  our  way  some  day,  fer  me  an'  Abraham  hev  often 
scraped  the  bottom  of  the  flour  barrel  an'  poured  out 
the  last  drop  of  ile,  not  knowin'  wrhere  any  more  was 
comin'  from." 

"  Tut,  tut,  woman ! "  remonstrated  Mrs.  Stickles. 
"  It's  wrong  fer  j  to  talk  that  way.  Llev  ye  ever  really 
wanted  ?  Didn't  the  flour  and  the  ile  come  somehow  ? 
Whenever  we're  scrapin'  the  bottom  of  the  barrel  it 
seems  that  the  Lord  alius  hears  us,  and  doesn't  let  us 
want.  I  guess,  if  we  stan'  by  the  Lord,  He'll  stan'  by 
us.  I'm  mighty  sorry  yer  man  signed  that  pertition 
aginst  that   man  of  God.     It  don't  seem  right  nohow." 

"  I'm  not  worryin'  about  that,  Mrs.  Stickles.  Har- 
rington has  considerable  right  on  his  side.  The  parson 
is  old.  We  do  need  a  young  man  with  snap  an'  vim. 
The  parson's  sermints  are  too  dry  an'  deep.    Abraham 


168  THE    FOUETH    WATCH 

sleeps  right  through  'em,  an'  says  it's  impossible  to  keep 
awake." 

"  Well,  I  declare !  "  and  Mrs.  Stickles  held  up  her 
hands  in  amazement.  "  To  think  that  I  should  live  to 
hear  sich  words  in  me  own  house.  Ye  say  the  parson's 
too  old.  Ain't  ye  ashamed  of  them  words  ?  Too  old ! 
D'ye  want  some  new  dapper  little  snob  spoutin'  from  the 
pulpit  who  hasn't  as  much  knowledge  in  his  hull  body 
as  Parson  John  has  in  his  little  finger  %  I  know  there's 
many  a  thing  the  parson  talks  about  that  I  can't  under- 
stand an'  so  there  is  in  the  Bible.  I  often  talk  the 
matter  over  with  John.  '  John,'  sez  I,  '  Ye  recollect 
when  ye  was  makin'  that  wardrobe  fer  me  out  in  the 
shed  two  springs  ago  ?  ' 

"'Well/ sez  he. 

"  '  An'  ye  remember  how  the  children  used  to  watch 
ye  an'  wonder  what  ye  was  makin'  ! ' 

"  '  Sartinly,'  sez  he. 

"  '  An'  how  they  used  to  pick  up  the  shavin's  ye 
planed  off,  an'  brung  them  inter  the  house.' 

"  He  kalkerlated  he  did. 

"  '  Well  then,'  sez  I,  '  John,  them  children  didn't 
understan'  what  ye  was  makin',  but  they  could  pick  up 
the  shavin's  an'  make  use  of  'em.  So  when  Parson  John 
is  preachin'  an'  I  can't  altogether  foller  him,  I  kin  pick 
up  somethin'  here  an'  thar  which  I  do  understand,  an' 
them  are  the  shavin's  which  I  kin  use,  an'  do  use.  Oh ! 
John,'  sez  I,  '  hasn't  the  parson  been  droppin'  shavin's 
fer  over  thirty  years,  an'  not  alius  in  the  pulpit  either, 
an'  haven't  we  ben  helped  'cause  we  picked  'em  up 


WASH-TUB    PHILOSOPHY  169 

an'  made  'em  our  own  \ '  John  said  I  was  right,  an'  he 
knows,  dear  soul." 

"  That  may  be  all  very  well  fer  you  an'  John,"  re- 
plied Mrs.  McKrigger,  "but  what  about  the  young 
people,  an'  the  older  ones  fer  all  that,  who  won't  pick 
up  the  shavin's  ?  Farrington  sez  we  want  a  poplar 
young  man  who  kin  speak  without  any  preparation,  like 
Mr.  Dale,  the  missionary  who  was  here  last  summer. 
Now,  there  was  a  man  up  to  whom  the  young  men  could 
look,  a  reglar  soldier,  who  had  been  in  the  fight  in 
Africy,  had  lived  among  lions,  tagers  and  niggers.  He 
was  a  hero,  an'  if  we  could  git  a  rale  live  missionary  like 
that,  he'd  make  Glendow  hum,  an'  the  old  church  'ud 
be  packed  to  the  doors  every  Sunday.  It's  them  mis- 
sionaries who  has  the  hard  time.  Oh,  they're  wonder- 
ful people.  Parson  John's  a  good  man,  but  he  ain't  in 
the  same  line  with  them  nohow.  He's  too  commonplace, 
an'  don't  stir  the  people  up." 

For  a  while  Mrs.  Stickles  did  not  reply.  She  wiped 
her  hands  on  her  apron,  and  crossing  the  room  took 
down  a  small  pot,  put  in  a  little  tea,  filled  it  with  water, 
and  set  it  on  the  back  of  the  stove  to  draw.  Next  she 
brought  forth  some  large  frosted  doughnuts,  and  after 
she  had  poured  a  cup  of  tea  for  Mrs.  McKrigger  and 
one  for  herself  she  sat  down  upon  an  old  splint-bottomed 
chair. 

"  Did  I  ever  tell  ye  the  conversation  I  had  with  Mr. 
Dale,  that  missionary  from  Af ricy  ?  "  she  at  length 
asked. 

"  'No,  I  never  heerd  it,"  came  the  reply. 


170  THE    FOURTH    WATCH 

u  Well,  that's  queer,  an'  it  happened  only  last  sum- 
mer, too.  Ye  see,  we  all  wont  to  the  missionary  meetin' 
in  the  church,  an'  Mr.  Dale  told  us  about  that  furren 
land.  Somehow  I  didn't  take  to  the  man,  an'  I  liked 
'im  less  as  he  went  on.  All  the  time  he  was  speak  in'  I 
noted  how  eagerly  Parson  John  listened.  Often  his 
buzum  hcaved-like,  an'  I  thought  I  heerd  'im  sigh. 
But  when  the  speaker  'gun  to  compare  Africy  with 
Canada  and  Glendow,  I  got  mad.  '  Here  the  work  is 
small,'  scz  he;  'thar  it's  mighty!  Here  ye  hev  yer 
hundreds;  thar  we  hev  our  thousands.  Here  things  is 
easy;  thar  hard.'  As  he  talked  on  that  way  I  looked  at 
the  parson  an'  saw  a  pained  expression  on  his  dear 
face.  I  jist  longed  to  jump  to  me  feet,  an'  pint  out  that 
old  grey-headed  man  a  sittin'  thar,  an'  tell  a  few  things 
I  know.     But  I  got  me  chance  later." 

"  What!  ye  didn't  say  anything  hard,  I  hope?"  in- 
terrupted Mrs.  McKrigger. 

"  Only  the  plain  truth;  jist  what  he  needed.  Ye  see, 
me  an'  John  was  axed  into  the  Reclory  afterwards  to 
meet  the  missionary  an'  hev  a  cup  of  tea.  Mr.  Dale  did 
most  of  the  talkin',  an'  told  us  a  hull  lot  more  about 
his  experiences  in  Africy.  But  somehow  he  rushed  me 
the  wrong  way.  He  had  little  use  fer  Canada,  an'  said 
so,  an'  that  was  mor'n  I  could  stan'. 

"  *  Mr.  Dale,'  sez  I,  speakin'  up,  when  his  jaw  stopped 
waggin'  fer  an  instant.  '  Would  ye  be  willin'  to  leave 
yer  present  field  of  labour  ? ' 

"  '  No,'  sez  he,  lookin'  at  me  surprised-like. 

"  '  An'  why  not/  sez  I. 


WASH-TUB    PHILOSOPHY  171 

"  '  Oh  the  work  is  so  inspirin'  out  thar/  sez  he.  '  I'd 
about  die  in  a — a — '  (I  think  he  was  goin'  to  say  a 
country  parish  like  this)  but  he  said  '  settled  field  whar 
the  work  is  so  quiet,  ye  know.' 

"  '  An'  ye  wouldn't  be  willin'  to  give  up  Africy,'  sez 
I,  '  fer  a  poor  parish  like  Glendow,  if  thar  was  no 
clergyman  here  ? ' 

"  '  ISTo/  sez  he,  in  a  hesitatin'  way,  fer  he  didn't  seem 
to  know  what  I  was  a  drivin'  at. 

"  '  Exactly  so,  Mr.  Dale,'  sez  I.  '  It  takes  a  heap  of 
spunk,  I  reckon,  to  go  to  them  furren  fields,  but  I 
kalkerlate  it  often  takes  jist  as  much  to  stay  to  hum, 
feed  pigs,  hens,  an'  look  after  a  hull  1:  itch  of  children. 
I've  hearn  men  preach  about  sacryfice  in  big  churches, 
but  I  generally  find  that,  when  a  poor  country  parish 
gits  vacant,  they  don't  seem  inclined  to  give  up  their 
rich  churches  an'  step  into  a  humbler  place.  Yet  some- 
times I've  heerd  of  sich  men  goin'  to  furren  fields.  An' 
why  is  that,  Mr.  Dale  % ' 

"  '  That  they  might  do  more  work  fer  the  Master,' 
sez  he. 

"  '  I  think  yer  wrong  thar,'  sez  I.  '  Xow,  look  here. 
To  enter  a  country  parish  is  to  be  almost  unknown,  an' 
people  say,  '  Oh,  he's  only  a  country  parson,'  an'  they 
stick  up  their  ugly  noses,  which  they  think  are  acristocat. 
But  let  a  man  go  to  a  furren  field,  an',  my  lands !  they 
blubber  over  'im  an'  make  a  great  fuss.  If  he  combs  the 
head  of  a  little  nigger  brat  out  thar  in  Africy — though 
no  doubt  he  needs  it — why  the  missionary  magazine8 
an'  papers  are  full  of  it.    If  he  pulls  the  tooth  of  an  old 


172  T1IE    FOURTH    WATCH 

Injun  chief  who  has  a  dozen  wives  taggin'  around  aftef 
'im,  the  people  hold  up  thar  hands  in  wonder,  an'  call 
'im  a  hero.  But  let  a  man  stay  at  hum  in  a  parish  like 
Glendow,  an'  no  one  hears  of  his  doin's,  cause  they  don't 
want  to.'  " 

"My!  ye  didn't  say  all  that?"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Mc- 
Krigger,  "  an'  to  a  rale  live  missionary,  too." 

"  Them's  the  exact  words  I  said,  an'  them  ain't  all," 
rattled  on  Mrs.  Stickles.  "  I  had  me  tongue  on  'im 
then,  an'  it  did  me  good  to  see  his  face.  lie  looked  once 
towards  the  door  as  if  he  thought  I'd  jump  at  'im.  Oh, 
it  was  as  good  as  a  circus  to  see  'im  shake,"  and  she 
laughed  at  the  recollection  of  it. 

"  '  Remember,'  sez  I,  '  I  ain't  got  nuthin'  agin  furren 
missions,  fer  they  do  a  heap  of  good.  But  I  would  liko 
to  see  things  levelled  up  a  bit.  If  I  git  down  on  me 
knees  an'  scrub  the  floor,  it's  nuthin'  thought  of.  But  if 
a  missionary  does  it,  a  great  fuss  is  made.  When 
Parson  John  is  dug  out  of  snow-banks  every  week,  when 
his  sleigh  gits  upsot  an'  throws  'im  into  the  ditch,  no 
one  outside  the  parish  ever  hears  of  it.  But  let  sich 
things  happen  to  a  furren  missionary,  an',  my  lands ! 
it's  wonderful.' 

"  I  could  see  all  the  time  that  Mr.  Dale  was  gittin' 
excited  an'  excititer. 

"  '  Woman,'  sez  he  in  a  lofty  kind  of  way,  which  re- 
minded me  of  a  young  rooster  tryin'  to  crow,  '  do  ye 
realize  what  yer  talkin'  about  ?  Do  ye  know  yer  treadm* 
on  delicate  ground  \  * 


WASH-TUB    PHILOSOPHY  1Y3 

"  '  Yes/  sez  I,  '  when  I  tread  on  a  man's  toes,  it's 
purty  delicate  ground.' 

"  '  I  don't  mean  that/  sez  he.  '  But  do  ye  know  that 
I'm  a  missionary,  an'  do  ye  know  what  it  means  to  bo 
away  from  hum  seven  years,  away  in  a  furren  land  ?  ' 

"  l  Yes/  sez  I.  '  It  means  a  holiday  of  a  hull  year  at 
the  end,  with  yer  salary  goin'  on,  an'  yer  travellin'  ex- 
penses paid.  D'ye  think,  Mr.  Dale,  that  the  parson 
here  ever  gits  sich  a  holiday  ?  Y'bet  yer  life  he  doesn't. 
He's  been  here  workin'  like  a  slave  fer  over  thirty  years 
now,  an'  in  all  that  time  he  never  had  a  holiday.' 

"  At  that  the  parson  himself  speaks  up.  '  I  think 
yer  wrong  thar,  Mrs.  Stickles/  sez  he.  e  I  had  two  hull 
weeks  once,  fer  which  I've  alius  been  most  thankful.' 

"  '  An  what  are  two  weeks  ? '  sez  I.  c  An'  didn't  ye 
pay  yer  own  travellin'  expenses  ? ' 

"  *  Yes/  sez  he,  '  I  did.' 

"  '  Thar  now/  sez  I  to  Mr.  Dale.  '  What  d'ye  think 
of  that  ?  Two  weeks  in  over  thirty  years  of  hard  work !  ' 
But  that  reminds  me  of  somethin'  else — an',  sez  I,  '  Who 
pays  yer  salary,  Mr.  Dale  ?  D'ye  mind  teliin'  me 
that  ? > 

"  '  The  Mission  Board  '  sez  he. 

"  '  An'  do  ye  git  it  reglar  ? '  sez  I. 

"  c  Every  month,'  sez  he. 

"  '  I  thought  so,'  sez  I.  '  An'  d'ye  think  the  parson 
here  gits  his  every  month  ? ' 

"  '  I  don't  know/  sez  he.     i  But  s'pose  he  does.' 

"  '  Xot  by  a  long  chalk/  sez  I.  '  He  has  to  wait 
months  an'  months  fer  it,  an'  sometimes  he  doesn't  git 


174  THE    FOURTH    WATCH 

it  at  all,  an'  then  has  to  take  hay  an'  oat",  or  do  without. 
I  know  that  to  he  a  fact.  Old  skinflint  Eeeker  over 
thar  owed  two  dollars  one  year  to  the  church,  an'  ho 
wondered  how  in  the  world  he  was  to  git  out  of  payin' 
it.  Durin'  the  Bummer  a  Sunday-school  picnic  was  held 
on  his  place  Lack  in  his  grove,  an'  fer  one  of  the  games 
the  parson  cut  down  four  little  beeches  about  as  big  as 
canes.  Thar  was  thousands  of  'em  growin'  around,  an' 
wasn'*:  worth  a  postage-stamp.  But  old  Eeeker  saw  'im 
cut  'em,  an'  the  next  day  he  went  to  the  parson  an'  told 
'im  how  vallable  the  beeches  was — his  fancy  trees  or 
somethin'  like  that — an'  charged  'im  fifty  cents  a  piece, 
the  amount  he  owed  to  the  church.  "  Wasn't  that  so, 
Parson  ?  "  sez  I,  turn  in'  to  'im.' 

"  *  Yes,  yes,'  sez  he.  '  But  it  ain't  worth  speakin' 
about  now.  I  think  we  had  better  have  our  cup  of  tea, 
an'  talk  no  more  about  the  subject.'  " 

"  Dear,  good  mar,"  and  Mrs.  Stickles  wiped  her  eyes 
with  the  corner  of  her  apron.  "  lie  was  kinder  upsot 
at  what  I  said.  But  not  so,  Xellie.  Her  sweet  face  jist 
beamed  on  me,  an'  when  I  went  out  into  the  kitchen 
to  help  her  she  put  her  arms  about  me  old  neck,  an' 
gave  me  a  good  big  thumpin'  kiss.  That's  what  she 
did." 

Scarcely  had  Mrs.  Stickles  ended,  ere  bells  were 
heard  outside. 

"  Why,  I  declare,  if  Abraham  ain't  back  already !  " 
exclaimed  Mrs.  McKrigger,  rising  to  her  feet  and  don- 
ning her  hat  and  wraps.  "  He's  made  a  quick  trip. 
I'm  very  grateful,  indeed  I  am,  fer  the  cup  of  tea  an' 


WASH-TUB    PHILOSOPHY  175 

the  pleasant  time  I've  had.  Ye  must  come  to  see  me  as 
soon  as  ye  kin." 

Mrs.  Stickles  stood  for  some  time  at  the  window 
watching  the  McKriggers  driving  away.  She  was 
thinking  deeply,  and  a  plan  was  being  evolved  in  her 
mind  which  made  her  forget  her  washing  and  the  vari- 
ous household  duties.  At  length  she  turned  and  en- 
tered the  room  where  her  husband  and  little  Ruth  were 
lying. 

"  John,"  she  said,  after  she  had  related  to  him  what 
Mrs.  McKrigger  had  told  her  about  Earrington  and 
the  petition,  "  d'ye  think  you  an'  Ruthie  will  mind  if 
me  an'  Sammy  go  into  the  shore  this  afternoon  with 
old  Queen  ?  " 

"  Why  no,  dear,"  was  the  reply.  "  But  don't  ye 
think  the  roads  are  too  bad,  an'  besides,  what  are  ye 
thinkin'  of  ?  " 

"  I  don't  mind  the  roads,  John.  They're  purty  well 
smashed  down  by  now,  an'  Queen's  very  stidy.  I've  a 
plan,  John,  which  comes  right  from  me  insides,"  and 
leaning  over  she  whispered  it  into  his  ear. 

"  Land  sakes,  dear !  "  replied  her  husband.  "  D'ye 
think  ye  kin  manage  it  ?  Will  they  listen  to  ye  ?  Ye' re 
only  a  woman,  remember,  an'  what  kin  a  woman  do  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I'm  only  a  woman,  John,  an'  mebbe  'tain't  a 
woman's  place.  But  when  men  are  too  scart  an'  heven't 
as  much  spunk  as  a  chicken  jist  outer  the  shell,  what 
else  is  thar  to  do  ?  Is  thar  no  one  in  the  hull  parish  to 
stan'  up  fer  the  Lord's  anointed  ?  Tell  me  that.  Didn't 
that  beautiful  Queen  Ester  stan'  before  her  crank  of  a 


176  THE    FOURTH    WATCH 

husband,  Hazen  Hearus,  an'  plead  fer  the  lives  of  her 
people?  An'  didn't  Jael  do  the  Lord's  will  when  she 
put  old  Sirseree  outer  the  way,  tell  me  that  ?  Now,  I 
ain't  a  queen  like  Ester,  an'  I  hope  I  ain't  a  woman  like 
Jael  that  'ud  drive  a  nail  through  a  man's  head.  I'm 
jist  plain  old  Marthy  Stickles,  but  mebbe  I  kin  do  some- 
thin'  fer  the  Lord,  even  if  I  ain't  purty  or  clever." 

An  hour  later  an  old,  lean  horse  fastened  to  a  home- 
made pung  was  wending  its  way  slowly  along  the  road 
leading  to  the  river.  Holding  the  reins  was  Sammy,  a 
queer  little  figure,  wrapped  from  head  to  foot,  bravely 
maintaining  his  precarious  position  on  six  inches  of  the 
end  of  the  board  seat.  Towering  above  him,  broad- 
shouldered  and  ponderous,  sat  Mrs.  Stickles,  the  very 
embodiment  of  health  and  strength. 

"  Sammy,"  said  she,  as  the  sled  lurched  along  the 
rough  road,  "  I  don't  like  this  bizness.  But  when  the 
Lord's  work's  to  be  did,  somebody's  got  to  set  his  face 
like  flint,  as  the  Bible  sez,  an'  do  it.  Don't  ye  ever 
fergit  that,  Sammy.  Don't  ye  ever  disremember  that 
yer  ma  told  ye." 


CHAPTEE  XIX 
THE  STING 

THE  buzz  of  gossip  once  more  filled  the  air  of" 
Glendow.  This  last  affray  between  Parson  John, 
and  Farrington  and  the  part  Nellie  had  taken 
gave  greater  scope  to  the  numerous  busy  tongues.  Up 
and  down  the  shore  road  and  throughout  the  back  settle- 
ments the  news  travelled.  It  was  discussed  at  the  store,, 
the  blacksmith  shop,  the  mill,  and  in  the  homes  at 
night,  wherever  a  few  were  gathered  together.  The 
Fletchers  had  never  been  idle  since  the  night  of  old 
Billy's  death.  They  stirred  up  others  by  various  stories 
and  conjectures,  fashioned  in  their  own  suspicious 
minds.  "  Why,"  they  asked,  "  did  not  the  parson  ex- 
plain about  that  money  he  paid  down  for  the  Frenelle 
homestead  ?  How  was  it  that  a  poor  country  parson 
was  able  to  buy  such  a  farm  ?  They  were  further  in- 
censed by  an  incident  which  happened  several  weeks 
after  the  auction.  Tom  Fletcher  was  determined  that 
he  would  question  the  parson  some  day,  in  the  presence 
of  others.  He  prided  himself  upon  his  keenness  of 
observation  and  shrewdness  in  detecting  a  guilty  man- 
ner in  those  whom  he  suspected  of  wrong-doing.  The 
first  opportunity  he  seized  when  he  met  the  parson  at 
the  blacksmith  shop,  waiting  for  his  horse  to  be  shod. 

177 


178  THE    FOUETH   WATCH 

"  Well,  Parson,  are  ye  goin'  to  sell  the  farm  ?  "  he 
asked  in  a  sort  of  careless  manner. 

"  What  farm  ?  "  was  the  reply. 

"  Oh,  the  Frenelle  place." 

"  No ;  it's  not  for  sale." 

"  Well,  is  that  so  ?  Money's  tight  these  times,  an' 
I  thought  mebbe  ye'd  be  glad  to  get  rid  of  it." 

"  'No.     I'm  not  anxious  to  do  so." 

"  But,  isn't  it  a  heap  of  money  to  be  tied  up  in  one 
place?  Mebbe  ye'd  give  us  a  hint  how  ye  manage  to 
do  it.  It's  as  much  as  us  poor  farmers  kin  do  to  live, 
let  alone  put  four  thousand  in  a  place  which  we  don't 
intend  to  use !  " 

Tom  tipped  a  wink  to  several  others  in  the  shop,  as 
much  as  to  say,  "  Now,  I've  cornered  him.  Watch  for 
the  fun."  Parson  John  saw  the  wink,  and  drew  him- 
self suddenly  up.  He  realized  that  the  man  was  draw- 
ing him  out  for  some  purpose,  and  it  was  as  well  to 
check,  him  first  as  last. 

"  Tom,  do  you  mind,"  he  asked,  "  if  I  put  one  ques- 
tion to  you  ?  " 

"  Why,  certainly  not.     Drive  ahead." 

"  It's  concerning  that  Widow  Tompkins'  place.  Per- 
haps you  will  tell  us  how  you  got  control  of  it  1  Such 
a  thing  doesn't  happen  every  day." 

Across  Tom's  face  spread  an  angry  flush,  while  a 
half-suppressed  laugh  was  heard  from  the  bystanders. 
All  knew  very  well  that  Tom  had  cheated  the  widow 
out  of  her  property,  though  no  one  ever  had  the  courage 
to  mention  it  to  him  before. 


THE    STING  179 

"  What  do  you  mean  by  that  question  ? "  demanded 
Fletcher. 

"  It's  a  simple  one,  though,  is  it  not  ?  "  the  parson 
quietly  responded.     "  It  naturally  makes  us  curious." 

"  Then  I'll  not  satisfy  such  d curiosity.     I  tend 

my  own  affairs,  an'  I  ax  others  to  do  the  same." 

"  That's  just  the  point,  Tom,"  and  the  parson  looked 
him  square  in  the  eyes.  "  You  wish  to  be  let  alone  with 
your  business,  and  so  do  I.  You  don't  wish  to  satisfy 
idle  curiosity  with  your  affairs,  and  neither  do  I.  So 
we  are  quits." 

This  incident  only  caused  the  Fletchers  to  hate  the 
parson  more  than  ever.  Their  greatest  ally  was  Far- 
rington.  He  was  a  man  of  considerable  means,  and  to 
have  his  support  meant  much.  Never  before  was  he- 
known  to  be  so  liberal  to  the  people  who  came  to  his 
store.  Often  he  invited  them  into  his  house  to  sup 
with  him,  and  then  the  grievances  and  election  matters 
were  thrashed  out.  Occasionally  when  a  farmer  came 
to  make  purchases,  Farrington  would  see  that  a  present 
was  bestowed  in  the  form  of  a  piece  of  calico  for  the 
wife,  or  some  candy  for  the  children.  This  was  done 
especially  when  Farrington  was  not  sure  of  his  man. 
He  was  playing  his  part,  not  only  stirring  up  these  men 
against  the  man  of  God,  but  also  ingratiating  himself 
into  their  good  wishes  against  the  day  of  the  election. 
When  Farrington  entered  the  field  as  a  candidate  for 
the  County  Council,  he  knew  he  would  have  a  hard 
struggle  against  his  opponent,  Philip  Gadsby,  who  was 
a  man  much  respected,  and  had  occupied  the  position 


180  THE    FOURTH    WATCH 

of  councillor  with  considerable  credit  for  two  terms. 
The  storekeeper  had  been  hard  at  work  for  some  time 
with  no  visible  success,  for  the  Farrington  family  with 
their  high-flown  ideas  wore  much  disliked  by  the  quiet, 
humble-minded  folk  of  Glendow.  The  idea,  therefore, 
of  him  being  their  representative  was  at  first  abhorrent 
to  most  of  the  people.  But  this  new  ruse  of  Farring- 
ton's  was  proving  most  successful.  The  Fletchers  drew 
with  them  all  the  loud-talking  and  undesirable  element 
of  Glendow.  This  Farrington  well  knew,  and  by  espous- 
ing their  cause  he  was  greatly  strengthening  his  own. 
The  election  day  was  only  a  few  weeks  off,  so  Farring- 
ton and  his  party  had  no  time  to  lose. 

During  all  this  buzz  of  gossip,  Parson  John,  the  man 
most  vitally  concerned,  was  perfectly  oblivious  of  the 
disturbance.  Of  a  most  unsuspecting  nature,  and  with 
not  a  particle  of  guile  in  his  honest  heart,  he  could  not 
imagine  anyone  harming  him  by  word  or  deed.  Happy 
in  his  work,  happy  in  the  midst  of  his  flock,  and  with 
his  pleasant  little  home  guarded  by  his  bright  house- 
keeper, he  had  no  thought  of  trouble.  To  his  eyes 
the  sky  was  clear.  His  humble  daily  tasks  brought  him 
comfort  through  the  day,  and  sweet,  undisturbed  rest 
by  night. 

But  with  Xellie  it  was  different.  She  heard  what  her 
father  did  not.  Fragments  of  gossip  drifted  to  her  ears, 
which  paled  her  cheek  and  set  her  heart  beating  fast. 
Occasionally  Dan  bore  her  news  he  had  picked  up  at  the 
store,  or  from  the  boys  of  the  neighbourhood,  who  were 
not  slow  in  talking  of  the  things  thev  had  heard  from 


THE    STING  181 

their  elders.  Nellie  longed  to  tell  her  father,  that  he 
might  he  able  to  answer  some  of  the  charges  which  were 
made.  Several  times  had  she  determined  to  do  so.  But 
when  she  had  looked  upon  his  calm  face,  noted  his  white 
hair,  and  gazed  into  his  clear,  unsuspecting  eyes,  her 
resolution  always  took  wings  and  disappeared.  Then 
she  would  surprise  her  father  by  twining  her  arms  about 
his  neck  and  giving  him  a  loving  kiss. 

Two  weeks  had  now  passed  since  the  accident,  and 
Parson  John  was  rapidly  improving.  Two  Sundays 
had  he  missed  from  church,  something  which  had  hap- 
pened but  once  before  in  his  long  ministry  in  the  parish. 
Winter  was  passing,  and  signs  of  spring  were  beginning 
to  be  seen  and  felt.  The  snow  was  steadily  disappearing 
from  the  hills,  and  the  fresh,  balmy  air  drifted  gently 
in  from  the  south  with  its  exhilarating  influence. 

It  was  Saturday  night,  and  Parson  John  was  looking 
forward  to  the  morrow,  when  he  could  take  his  accus- 
tomed place  at  the  parish  church.  He  and  Nellie  were 
sitting  quietly  in  the  little  room,  when  Mr.  Larkins 
entered  with  the  mail.  The  postman  had  met  with  an 
accident  on  the  icy  road,  and  was  several  hours  behind 
time.  Usually  Dan  went  to  the  office,  but  on  this  occa- 
sion Mr.  Larkins  was  down  to  the  store,  and  had  brought 
along  the  mail  for  both  families. 

"  Letters  for  us !  "  Nellie  exclaimed  as  Mr.  Larkins 
entered.     "  Oh,  how  good  of  you  to  bring  them !  " 

"  Stay,  stay,"  insisted  the  parson,  as  the  worthy 
neighbour  was  about  to  retire  and  leave  them  to  the 
enjoyment  of  their  letters.     "  You  have  not  had  a  whifF 


182  THE    FOURTH    WATCH 

with  me  for  a  long  time,  and  here  is  a  new  church- 
warden waiting  to  he  broken  in." 

u  But,  I  shall  interrupt  you,"  Mr.  Larkins  replied. 

"  Kb,  no,  not  in  the  least." 

"  Well,  then,  I  agree  to  remain  for  one  smoke,  if  you 
vvill  promise  that  you  will  read  your  letters,  and  not 
mind  me.  I  see  a  new  magazine  on  the  table  which 
looks  very  tempting." 

Ensconced  in  a  large  easy-chair,  he  was  soon  deeply 
immersed  in  the  fascinating  pages,  at  the  same  time 
endeavouring  to  enjoy  the  long  "  church-warden," 
which  was  not  altogether  to  his  taste.  Silence  reigned 
in  the  room,  broken  only  by  the  cutting  of  envelopes  and 
the  occasional  rattle  of  the  letters. 

Mr.  Larkins  was  startled  by  a  sudden  cry  of  aston- 
ishment, and  looking  quickly  up  he  saw  the  parson 
sitting  erect  in  his  chair,  clutching  a  sheet  of  paper 
in  both  hands,  and  staring  at  it  in  a  dazed  manner. 
Nellie  at  once  sprang  to  his  side  to  ascertain  the  cause 
of  the  commotion. 

"  Look !  Look !  "  he  cried,  thrusting  the  paper  into 
her  hand.  "  It's  from  the  Bishop !  Read  it,  quick,  and 
tell  me  what  it  means !  Am  I  losing  my  senses,  or  is  this 
only  a  dream,  or  a  joke  ?  " 

Although  Xellie's  face  was  pale  as  she  sprang  to  her 
father's  side,  it  went  white  as  death  as  she  quickly 
scanned  the  missive,  drinking  in  almost  intuitively 
every  word  and  its  meaning.  Then,  flinging  it  aside 
with  an  impatient  gesture,  she  placed  her  arms  about 
her  father's  neck,  and  tried  to  soothe  him. 


THE    STING  183 

"  Father,  father,  dear,  never  mind,"  she  pleaded. 
But  her  voice  faltered,  and  she  simply  clung  to  him  like 
a  tender  vine  to  some  sturdy  oak. 

"  Girl !  girl !  "  demanded  the  parson,  "  what  does  it 
mean  ?    Do  you  know  anything  ?     Tell  me,  quick !  " 

"  Father,  father,"  urged  the  maiden,  "  calm  yourself. 
Don't  get  so  excited." 

"  But,  do  you  know  anything  about  this  ?  Tell  me  at 
once !  " 

"  Yes " 

"  Yes,  what  ?  Don't  stop.  Go  on,"  and  the  old  man 
leaned  forward  so  as  not  to  miss  a  single  word. 

"  Oh,  father,  give  me  time,"  sobbed  Nellie.  "  I  will 
explain  all.     What  will  ]\Ir.  Larkins  think  ?  " 

"  True,  true.  What  will  he  think?  "  and  the  parson 
turned  towards  his  visitor. 

"  You  will  pardon  me,  sir,  for  acting  so  strangely. 
But  I  am  much  upset.  There,  please,  read  this.  A 
letter  from  my  Bishop,  full  of  the  most  remarkable 
utterances  a  man  ever  wrote.  My  people  turned  against 
me !  ]\ly  people  charging  me  with  being  a  common 
thief!  Xo,  no!  It  cannot  be  true!  Bead  it — read  it 
for  yourself,"  and  with  a  trembling  hand  he  passed  over 
the  letter. 

"  ]\Iy  dear  Westmore,"  so  began  the  epistle.  "  WTiat 
is  the  trouble  between  you  and  your  parishioners  in 
Glendow  %  I  have  recently  received  a  petition  signed 
by  twenty  of  your  people  asking  for  your  removal,  on 
the  following  grounds : 

"  First.  That  you  are  too  old  to  do  the  work ;  that 


184:  TIIE    FOURTH    WATCH 

many  parts  of  the  parish  are  being  neglected,  and  that 
a  young  man  should  take  your  place,  who  will  be  able  to 
bold  the  flock  together. 

"Second.  That  you  alone  attended  the  deathbed  of 
an  old  man,  William  Fletcher  by  name,  who  was  pos- 
sessed  of  a  considerable  sum  of  money,  all  in  gold.  The 
money,  it  is  well  known,  was  always  kept  in  the  house 
in  a  strong,  iron  box.  The  night  you  attended  him  the 
house  was  burned  to  the  ground,  but  no  trace  of  the 
money  has  since  been  found.  Even  at  the  time  you 
were  suspected  by  some,  as  it  was  well  known  you  were 
much  involved  in  some  mining  transactions  out  in  Brit- 
ish Columbia  and  badly  in  need  of  money  to  carry  on 
the  work.  But  not  until  shortly  after  the  fire,  when  at 
a  public  auction  you  purchased  a  large  homestead  and 
paid  down  the  amount,  four  thousand  dollars,  in  cash, 
did  the  whole  parish  suspect  that  something  was  radi- 
cally wrong. 

"  Third.  That  on  your  way  to  attend  a  funeral  at 
Craig's  Corner  on  a  recent  Sunday,  you  engaged  in  a 
horse-race  wTith  one,  Tim  Fraser,  a  most  notorious 
character. 

"  Such  in  brief  is  the  purport  of  the  petition  which 
now  lies  before  me,  and  I  am  asked  not  only  to  remove 
you,  but  to  make  a  thorough  investigation  concerning 
the  whole  affair.  I  am  much  grieved  at  this  matter,  and 
cannot  understand  it  at  all.  You  have  ever  been  looked 
upon  as  a  faithful  priest  in  the  Church  of  God,  and  I 
believe  you  will  be  able  to  explain  everything  to  the 
satisfaction  of  all.     At  first  I  thought  it  well  that  you 


THE    STING  185 

should  write  to  me.  On  second  consideration,  however, 
I  think  it  better  to  make  a  visit  to  Glendow,  and  see  if 
the  matter  cannot  be  quietly  settled.  I  do  not  wish 
this  trouble  to  get  abroad  or  into  the  newspapers.  I 
wish  to  have  the  people  of  the  parish  come  before  me, 
fuie  by  one,  that  I  may  hear  what  they  have  to  say,  and 
thus  be  in  a  better  position  to  form  a  sound  judgment. 
I  have  written  the  petitioners  to  this  effect,  and  have 
told  them  that  I  shall  be  in  the  vestry  of  the  church  next 
Thursday,  morning  and  afternoon,  to  hear  what  they 
have  to  say.  I  have  also  written  to  your  wardens — 
whose  names,  by  the  way,  do  not  appear  on  the  petition 
— stating  the  case,  that  they  may  give  due  notice 
throughout  the  parish." 

Silently  Mr.  Larkins  returned  the  letter,  not  know- 
ing what  to  say. 

"  What  does  it  all  mean  ?  "  questioned  the  parson, 
looking  keenly  into  his  neighbour's  face.  "  Am  I  only 
dreaming,  or  is  it  a  joke?  " 

"  Neither,  father,  dear,"  Nellie  replied,  taking  a 
seat  near  his  side,  and  tenderly  clasping  his  hand,  which 
was  trembling  with  excitement.  "  It  is  all  real,  ah,  too 
real !     The  people  have  been  saying  these  things." 

"  What,  girl !  Do  you  mean  to  tell  me  that  these 
things  have  been  talked  about  ever  since  the  night  of 
the  fire  ?  "  demanded  the  parson. 

"  Yes,  father,  some  have  been  saying  them." 

"  And  you  knew  about  these  stories,  Nellie  %  " 

"  Y — yes,  some  of  them." 

"  And  you  never  said  a  word  to  me !    Never  gave  me 


1S6  THE    FOURTH    WATCH 

a  hint  of  warning,  but  let  me  remain  in  ignorance  the 
whole  of  this  time!  " 

"  We  thought  it  was  for  the  best,  father.  Don't  get 
angry  with  me.  I  suppose  I  should  have  told  you,  but 
I  thought  the  gossip  would  soon  cease." 

"  You  thought  so,  did  you!  Girl,  I  didn't  think  you 
would  deceive  me — your  father,  in  his  old  age!  Have 
all  my  friends  turned  against  me  ?  Yes,  yes.  and  even 
she,  of  my  flesh  and  blood — the  darling  of  my  heart 
for  whom  I  would  die !    God  help  me  !  " 

"Father,  father,  dear!  don't  talk  that  way," 
pleaded  Nellie.  "  You  will  break  my  heart.  You  don't 
know  what  I  have  suffered.  Day  and  night  the  trouble 
has  been  with  me.  I  loved  you  so  much  that  I  wished 
to  spare  you  the  worry.  I  thought  it  was  for  the  best, 
but  now  I  see  I  should  have  told  you.  You  have 
friends,  true  and  tried,  who  do  not  believe  a  word  of 
these  charges." 

The  parson  who  had  been  gazing  straight  before  him, 
rested  his  eyes  upon  his  daughter  weeping  by  his  side. 
His  face  softened,  and  the  old  look  returned. 

"  Forgive  me,  darling,"  he  said,  placing  his  arm 
tenderly  about  her.  "  I  have  wronged  you  and  all  my 
dear  friends.  But,  oh,  the  blow  is  so  sudden !  I  hardly 
know  what  to  think.     What  can  I  do  ?  " 

For  over  an  hour  they  sat  there  and  discussed  the 
matter.  As  Mr.  Larkins  at  length  rose  to  go,  he  looked 
into  Parson  John's  face  so  drawn  and  white,  and  almost 
cursed  the  wretches  who  had  brought  such  trouble  upon 
that  hoary  head. 


CHAPTER  XX 

THE  OVERSEER 

,HE  service  at  the  parish  church  Sunday  morn- 
ing was  largely  attended.  Word  had  spread 
rapidly  that  the  Bishop  would  arrive  during  the 
week,  and  it  was  confidently  expected  that  the  parson 
would  touch  on  the  question  from  the  pulpit. 

"  Guess  we'll  git  something  to-day,"  one  man  re- 
marked to  another,  near  the  church  door. 

"  Y'bet,"  was  the  brief  response. 

"  D'ye  think  the  parson  will  say  anything  about  old 
Billy?" 

"  Mebbe  he  will,  an'  mebbe  he  won't." 

"  But  I  think  he  will.  The  parson  likes  to  hit  from 
the  pulpit  when  no  one  kin  hit  back." 

"  Is  that  what  brought  you  to  church  to-day  ?  Tou 
seldom  darken  the  door." 

"  Sure !  What  else  should  I  come  fer  ?  I'm  not  like 
you,  Bill  Elanders,  wearin'  out  me  shoes  paddin'  to 
phurch  every  Sunday.  I  kin  be  jist  as  good  a  Christian 
an'  stay  at  home.  I  kin  read  me  Bible  an'  say  me 
prayers  there." 

"  I'm  not  denying  that,  Bill,  but  the  question  is, 
Do  ye  ?  I  reckon  ye  never  open  yer  Bible  or  say  yer 
prayers  either  fer  that  matter.     If  you  were  in  the 

187 


1S8  TI1E    FOURTH    WATCH 

habit  of  (loin'  so  you  never  would  Lev  signed  that  peti- 
tion to  the  Bishop." 

"  Well,  I'm  not  alone  in  that.  There's  Farrington, 
a  church  member  an'  a  communicant,  who  headed  the 
list,  an'  if  he " 

"  Hold,  right  there,  Bill.  Farrington  never  signed 
that  paper." 

"  Yes,  he  did." 

"  But,  I  say,  he  didn't.  TTe  promised  to  do  so,  but 
jist  after  he  scut  it  away  he  made  a  fuss  an'  said  that 
he  had  fergottcn  to  do  it." 

"  Ye  don't  say  so !  "  and  Bill's  eves  opened  wide  with 
surprise.     But  are  ye  sure?" 

"  Sartin.  I  had  it  from  Tom  Fletcher  himself,  who 
feels  rather  sore  about  it.  It  is  well  known  that  Far- 
rington wanted  the  parson  removed  on  the  plea  of  old 
age,  but  didn't  want  that  clause  in  about  Billy's  death. 
The  Fletchers  insisted,  however,  an'  in  it  went." 

"  The  devil !    Well,  it's  queer,  I  do  declare." 

Just  then  the  bell  rang  out  its  last  call,  and  they 
entered  the  church  with  others. 

Parson  John  looked  greyer  than  usual  as  he  con- 
ducted the  service  and  stood  at  the  lectern  to  read  the 
lessons.  But  his  voice  was  as  sweet  and  musical  as 
ever,  though  now  a  note  of  pathos  could  be  detected. 
His  step  was  slow  and  feeble  as  he  mounted  the  pulpit, 
and  a  yearning  look  came  into  his  face  as  he  glanced 
over  the  rows  of  heads  before  him. 

"  Bemember  my  bonds,"  was  the  text  he  took  this 
morning,  and  without  a  note  to  guide  him,  he  looked 


THE    OVERSEER  189 

into  the  numerous  faces,  and  delivered  bis  brief  mes- 
sage. A  breathless  silence  pervaded  the  sanctuary  as 
he  proceeded  to  draw  a  picture  of  St.  Paul,  the  great 
champion  of  the  faith,  in  his  old  age  enduring  afflic- 
tion, and  appealing  to  his  flock  to  remember  his  bonds. 
The  arm  of  the  parson  still  in  the  sling,  and  the  knowl- 
edge the  people  had  of  the  reports  circulated  about  him, 
added  much  to  the  intense  impressiveness  of  the  scene. 
For  about  .fifteen  minutes  he  spoke  in  a  clear,  steady 
voice.  Then  his  right  hand  clutched  the  top  of  the 
pulpit,  while  his  voice  sank  and  faltered.  "  Brethren," 
he  said,  straightening  himself  up  with  an  effort,  "  St. 
Paul  had  his  bonds,  which  were  hard  for  him  to  bear; 
the  bond  of  suffering,  the  bond  of  loneliness,  and  the 
bond  of  old  age.  You,  too,  have  bonds,  and  will  have 
them.  But  how  sweet  to  know  that  your  friends  and 
loved  ones  will  remember  your  bonds,  will  understand 
your  sufferings,  peculiarities,  and  will  sympathize  with 
you,  and  be  considerate.  I,  too,  have  bonds :  the  bond  of 
unfitness  for  my  great  work,  and  the  bond  of  old  age. 
These  two  shackle  and  impede  me  in  the  Master's  cause. 
But  I  ask  you  to  think  not  so  much  of  these  as  of  an- 
other which  binds  me  soul  and  body — it  is  the  bond  of 
love.  I  look  into  your  faces  this  morning,  and  think 
of  the  many  years  I  have  laboured  among  you  in  evil 
report  and  good  report.  I  have  learned  to  love  you,  and 
now  that  love  is  my  greatest  bond,  for  it  enwraps  my 
very  heart.  "VYhen  parents  see  their  darling  child  turn 
against  them,  their  love  to  him  is  the  hardest  bond  to 
bear,  because  they  cannot  sever  it.     They  remember 


190  THE    FOURTH    WATCH 

him  as  a  babe  in  arms,  as  a  little,  clinging,  prattling 
child.  They  think  of  what  thoy  have  done  and  suffered 
for  his  sake  and  how  the  cord  of  love  has  been  silently 
woven  through  the  years.  My  love  to  you  is  my  great- 
est bond,  and,  though  some  may  grow  cold,  some  may 
scoff,  and  some  repudiate,  never  let  the  lips  of  any  say 
that  your  rector,  your  old  grey-headed  pastor,  now  in 
his  fourth  and  last  watch,  ever  ceased  in  his  love  to  his 
little  flock." 

There  was  a  diversity  of  opinion  among  the  listeners 
to  these  pathetic  words,  which  was  quite  noticeable  as 
the  congregation  filed  out  of  the  church.  The  eyes  of 
some  were  red,  showing  the  intensity  of  their  emotion, 
while  others  shone  with  a  scornful  light. 

"  The  parson  fairly  upset  me  to-day !  "  blurted  out 
one  burly  fellow.  "  I  heven't  been  so  moved  sense  the 
day  I  laid  me  old  mother  to  rest  in  the  graveyard  over 
yonder." 

"  Upset,  did  ye  say  ? "  replied  another,  turning 
suddenly  upon  him.  "  What  was  there  to  upset  ye  in 
that  ?  " 

"  Why,  the  way  the  parson  spoke  and  looked." 

"  Umph !  lie  was  only  acting  his  part.  lie  was 
trying  to  work  upon  our  feelings,  that  was  all.  Ah,  he 
is  a  cute  one,  that.  Did  ye  hear  what  he  said  about  the 
bond  of  love  ?    Ha,  ha !    That's  a  good  joke." 

There  was  one,  however,  who  felt  the  words  more 
deeply  than  all  the  others.  This  was  Nellie,  who  sat 
straight  upright  in  her  pew,  and  watched  her  father's 
everv  movement.     She  did  not  shed  a  tear,  but  her 


THE    OVERSEER  191 

hands  were  firmly  clasped  in  her  lap  and  her  face  was 
as  pale  as  death.  As  soon  as  the  service  was  over  she 
hurried  into  the  vestry,  helped  her  father  off  with  his 
rohes,  and  then  supported  his  feeble  steps  hack  to  the 
Rectory.  She  made  no  reference  to  the  sermon,  hut 
endeavoured  to  divert  her  father's  mind  into  a  different 
channel.  She  set  about  preparing  their  light  midday 
repast,  talked  and  chatted  at  the  table,  and  exhibited 
none  of  the  heaviness  which  pressed  upon  her  heart. 
Only  after  she  had  coaxed  her  father  to  lie  down,  and 
knew  that  he  had  passed  into  a  gentle  sleep,  did  she 
give  way  to  her  pent-up  feelings.  How  her  heart  did 
ache  as  she  sat  there  alone  in  the  room,  and  thought  of 
her  father  standing  in  the  pulpit  uttering  those  pathetic 
words. 

Thursday,  the  day  of  the  investigation,  dawned 
bright  and  clear.  Not  a  breath  of  wind  stirred  the  air. 
It  was  one  of  those  balmy  spring  days  when  it  is  good 
to  be  out-of-doors  drinking  in  freshness  and  strength. 

The  Bishop  had  arrived  the  night  before,  and  had 
taken  up  his  abode  at  the  Rectory.  About  ten  o'clock 
the  following  morning,  he  wended  his  way  to  the 
church,  there  to  await  the  people  of  Glendow.  Some 
time  elapsed  before  any  arrived,  and  not  until  the 
afternoon  did  most  of  them  come.  Tom  Fletcher  was 
among  the  first,  and  at  once  he  made  his  way  into  the 
yestry,  and  confronted  the  Bishop. 

The  latter  was  a  small-sized  man,  clean  shaven,  and 
with  his  head  adorned  with  a  mass  of  white,  wavy  hair. 
His  face  and  massive  forehead  bore  the  stamp  of  deep 


1«J2  THE    FOURTH    WATCH 

intellectuality.  He  was  noted  as  a  writer  of  no  mean 
order,  having  produced  several  works  dealing  with 
church  questions,  full  of  valuable  historic  research.  Ilia 
every  movement  bespoke  a  man  of  great  activity  and 
devotion  in  his  high  office.  His  eyes  were  keen  and 
searching,  while  his  voice  was  sharp  and  piercing. 
"  Sharp  as  a  razor/'  said  several  of  his  careless  clergy. 
Merciless  and  scathing  in  reference  to  all  guile,  sham 
and  hypocrisy,  he  was  also  a  man  of  intense  feeling, 
sympathetic,  warm-hearted,  and  a  friend  well  worth 
having. 

He  was  poring  over  certain  church  registers  as  Tom 
Fletcher  entered,  and,  glancing  quickly  up,  noted  at 
once  the  man  standing  before  him.  He  rose  to  his  feet, 
reached  out  his  hand  to  Fletcher  and  motioned  him  to  a 
chair. 

"  Fletcher  is  your  name,  you  say — Tom  Fletcher," 
and  the  Bishop  ran  his  eyes  over  several  lists  of  names 
before  him. 

"  Yes,  sir,  that's  my  name." 

"  You  signed  the  petition,  I  see." 

"  Yes." 

"  Well,  then,  you  must  know  about  these  charges 
which  are  made  against  your  rector.  Xow,  as  regards 
the  first.  It  states  here  that  he  is  neglecting  certaix 
parts  of  the  parish.     Is  that  true  ?  " 

"  I  understand  so." 

"Where?" 

"  Oh,  I  hear  he  hasn't  been  to  Hazel  Creek  an' 
Landsdown  Corner  fer  over  two  years." 


THE    OVERSEER  193 

u  Any  other  place  %  " 

"  !N"o,  I  guess  them's  the  only  two,  but  it  seems  to 
me  to  be  a  purty  serious  matter  fer  sich  places  to  be 
neglected  so  long." 

"  Ah,  I  see,"  and  the  Bishop  looked  keenly  into 
Tom's  face. 

"  You're  not  a  vestryman,  Mr.  Fletcher  ?  "  he  re- 
marked. 

"  ]STo,  never  was  one." 

"  Did  you  ever  attend  an  Easter  Monday  meeting?  " 

"  ISTo,  never  had  time." 

"  Do  you  take  a  church  paper  ?  " 

"  Should  say  not  Much  as  I  kin  do  is  to  pay  fer  the 
newspaper." 

"  But,  of  course,  you  read  the  Synod  Journal,  which, 
is  freely  distributed.  It  contains  each  year  a  report 
from  this  parish." 

"  Yes,  I  read  it  sometimes,  but  there  isn't  much  to 
interest  me  in  that." 

"  But  surely,  Mr.  Eletcher,  you  must  have  read  there 
that  Hazel  Creek  and  Landsdown  Corner  were  cut  off 
from  Glendow  over  two  years  ago,  and  added  to  the 
adjoining  parish,  and  are  now  served  by  the  rector  of 
Tinsborough.  They  are  more  accessible  to  him,  and 
the  change  has  been  a  good  one." 

"  What !  Ye  don't  tell  me !  "  and  Tom's  eyes 
opened  wide  with  surprise.  "  I  never  knew  that  before. 
The  parson  never  said  a  word  about  it." 

64  Did  you  ever  ask  him  ?  Or  did  you  inquire  why  he 
never  went  to  those  places  ?  " 


194               THE    FOURTH    WATCH 
"  No.     I  thought " 


"  I  don't  want  to  know  what  you  thought,"  and  the 
Bishop  turned  sharply  upon  him.  "  Explanations  are 
not  needed  now.  You  have  proven  conclusively  that 
you  know  nothing  about  the  church  affairs  in  this 
parish,  and  care  less.  According  to  these  registers  I 
find  that  you  never  come  to  Communion  and  never  con- 
tribute one  cent  to  the  support  of  the  church.  But  we 
will  let  that  pass,  and  consider  the  next  charge  made 
hero." 

"  What,  about  Uncle  Billy  ?  " 

"  Yes.  You  know  the  charge  made,  and  as  you  signed 
the  petition  you  must  have  some  substantial  proof  to 
bring  forth." 

Tom  twisted  uneasily  on  the  chair  and  twirled  his  hat 
in  his  hands.  He  was  mad  at  the  way  the  Bishop  had 
cornered  him,  and  at  what  he  had  said.  But  he  was 
also  afraid  of  this  man  who  knew  so  much  and  seemed 
to  read  his  inmost  thoughts.  He  began  to  dread  the 
questions  which  he  knew  would  come,  and  longed  to  be 
out  of  the  vestry.  He  was  not  feeling  so  sure  of  him- 
self and  wished  he  had  stayed  away. 

"  The  second  charge  made  here,"  continued  the 
Bishop,  "  is  of  a  most  serious  nature.  It  is  to  the  effect 
that  your  rector  stole  the  gold  from  William  Fletcher 
the  night  the  house  was  burned,  and  used  some  of  it  to 
buy  a  farm.     Is  that  what  it  means  ?  " 

"  I — I — don't  know,"  Tom  stammered,  now  on  his 
guard,  and  not  wishing  to  commit  himself. 

"  But  you  should  know,"  the  Bishop  insisted.    "  You 


THE    OVERSEER  195 

signed  the  paper,  and  I  ask  you  what  it  means, 
then?" 

"  The  gold  is  gone,  sir,  an'  the  parson  was  the  only 
one  there  with  Uncle  Billy.  Besides,  where  did  he  git 
all  of  that  money  ?  " 

"  But  that's  no  proof.  I  want  facts,  and  I  expect  you 
to  give  me  some." 

"  That's  all  I  know,"  was  the  surly  response. 

"  And  upon  the  strength  of  that  suspicion  you  signed 
this  paper  %  " 

"  Yes." 

"  And  you  would  swear  that  you  know  nothing 
definite  ?  " 

"  Y— yes — that's  all  I  know." 

The  Bishop  remained  silent  for  a  short  time,  musing 
deeply. 

"  Do  you  know,"  he  at  length  remarked,  "  that  you 
have  put  yourself  in  a  very  awkward  position  ? " 

"  How's  that  ?  " 

"  You  have  virtually  said  that  Mr.  Westmore  stole 
that  gold.  If  you  cannot  prove  your  statements  you 
have  laid  yourself  open  to  prosecution  for  defamation 
of  character.  Your  rector,  if  he  wished,  could  bring  in 
a  charge  against  you  of  a  most  serious  nature." 

"  I  never  thought  of  that." 

"  !STo,  I  know  you  didn't.  You  may  go  now,  but  re- 
member the  position  in  which  you  have  placed  yourself." 

Tom  waited  to  hear  no  more.  He  fairly  sprang  to 
the  door,  his  face  dark  and  frightened.  He  spoke  to 
no  one,  neither  did  he  notice  the  sturdy  form  01  Mrs. 


19G  THE    FOURTH    WATCH 

Stickles  standing  there  waiting  to  be  admitted  into  the 
vestry. 

Tbe  Bishop  looked  up  as  the  door  opened  and  Mrs. 
Stickles  entered.  She  always  proved  the  dominating 
factor  wherever  she  went,  and  what  her  size  could  not 
accomplish  was  well  supplied  by  her  marvellous  tongue. 
The  Bishop  winced  as  she  seized  his  hand  in  a  vise- 
like grip. 

"  It's  real  glad  I  am  to  set  me  eyes  on  ye,"  she  ex- 
claimed. "  I  heven't  seen  ye  in  a  dog's  age,  an'  I'm 
mighty  pleased  ye  look  so  well.  How  did  ye  leave  the 
missus,  bless  her  dear  heart  ?  My,  I'm  all  bet  up,  the 
church  is  so  hot,"  and  she  bounced  down  upon  the  chair 
Fletcher  had  recently  vacated. 

The  Bishop's  eyes  twinkled,  and  his  care-worn  face 
brightened  perceptibly.  His  exalted  position  made  him 
a  lonely  man.  There  was  so  much  deference  paid  to 
him.  Teople  as  a  rule  were  so  reserved  in  his  presence, 
and  showed  a  longing  to  be  away.  "  Many  people  de- 
sire a  high  office,"  he  had  once  said,  "  but  very  few 
realize  the  responsibility  and  loneliness  it  entails.  So 
much  is  expected  of  a  Bishop,  and  his  slightest  words 
and  acts  are  criticized.  I  often  envy  humble  workmen, 
smoking  and  chatting  together.  They  have  many  things 
in  common.  They  may  say  what  they  like,  and  much 
heed  is  not  given  to  their  remarks." 

It  was  therefore  most  refreshing  to  have  this  big- 
hearted  woman  seated  before  him  acting  and  talking 
so  naturally,  without  the  least  restraint,  the  same  as  if 
she  were  in  her  own  house. 


THE    OVERSEER  197. 

"You  Lave  come,  I  suppose,"  said  the  Bishop,  "in 
connection  with  this  petition,"  and  he  pointed  to  the 
paper  lying  on  the  table. 

"  Oh,  that's  the  thing,  is  it  ?  "  asked  Mrs.  Stickles, 
as  she  leaned  forward  to  s;et  a  better  view.  "  Be  verv 
keerful  of  it,  Mr.  Bishop.  Don't  scratch  it  or  bring  it 
too  close  to  the  fire." 

"  Why,  what  do  you  mean  ?  "  asked  the  Bishop. 

"  What  do  I  mean  ?  Don't  ye  know  that's  the  work 
of  the  devil,  an'  there's  enough  brimstone  in  that  paper 
to  burn  us  up  in  a  jiffy.  It's  soaked  through  an' 
through,  so  I  advise  ye  to  handle  it  keerful." 

"  So  you  think  these  charges  in  this  petition  are  not 
true  ?    What  can  you  say  to  the  contrary,  then  ?  " 

"  What  kin  I  say  to  be  contrary  %  I  kin  say  a  good 
deal,  an',  indeed,  I  hev  said  a  good  deal.  When  I 
heered  about  that  pertition  my  buzum  jist  swelled  like 
the  tail  of  an  old  cat  when  a  hull  bunch  of  yelpin'  curs 
git  after  her.  But  I  didn't  sit  down  an'  weep  an'  wring 
me  hands.  iSTo,  sir,  not  a  bit  of  it.  Me  an'  Sammy 
went  to  them  in  authority,  an'  sez  I  to  them  church- 
wardens, sez  I,  '  will  ye  let  that  old  parson,  the  Lord's 
anointed,  be  imposed  upon  by  them  villains  ? '  " 

"  "  What  kin  we  do  ? '  sez  they. 

"  '  Do ! '  sez  I.  '  Do  what  the  Lord  intended  ye  to 
do,  fight.  Didn't  the  Holy  Apostle  say,  '  Quit  ye  like 
men,  be  strong  ? '  '  Git  up  a  pertition,'  sez  I,  '  an'  git 
every  decent,  honest  man  in  Glendow  to  sign  it,  an'  send 
it  to  the  Bishop.    Tell  'im,'  sez  I,  '  that  the  parson  isn't 


19S  THE    FOURTH    WATCH 

neglectin'  his  parish  an'  that  yez  hev  full  confidence  in 


lm. 


We  don't  like  to  do  it/  sez  they. 

"  '  Why  not  ? '  sez  I. 

"  '  We  don't  like  to  stir  up  strife/  sez  they.  "  'Tisn't 
good  to  hev  a  disturbance  in  the  church.  We're  men  of 
peace.' 

"  '  Peace/  sez  I,  '  an'  let  the  devil  win  1  That's  not 
the  trouble.  Yer  afeered,  that's  what's  the  matter. 
Yer  too  weak-kneed,  an'  hain't  got  as  much  backbone 
as  an  angle  worm.'  That's  what  I  said  to  'em,  right  out 
straight,  too.  ISTow  kin  ye  tell  me,  Mr.  Bishop,  why 
the  Lord  made  some  people  men  instead  of  makin'  'em 
chickens  fer  all  the  spunk  they've  got  ?  " 

"  But,  Mrs.  Stickles,"  replied  the  Bishop,  who  had 
been  staring  in  amazement  at  the  torrent  of  words, 
"  what  has  this  to  do  with  the  question  before  us  ?  " 

"  I'm  comin'  to  that,  sir,  only  I  wanted  to  tell  ye  my 
persition.  When  I  found  that  them  in  authority 
wouldn't  make  the  start,  I  concluded  that  the  Lord 
meant  me  to  do  the  work.  So  me  an'  Sammy  an'  our 
old  horse  Queen  travelled  up  an'  down  the  parish  fer 
three  solid  days,  with  this  result,"  and,  drawing  a  paper 
from  a  capacious  pocket,  she  laid  it  on  the  table.  "  Thar 
'tis,  read  it  fer  yerself,  an'  jedge." 

The  Bishop's  eyes  grew  a  little  misty  as  he  read  the 
words  written  there,  and  noted  the  long  list  of  names 
testifying  to  the  worthiness  of  the  rector  of  Glendow. 

"  Mrs.  Stickles,"  he  at  length  remarked,  and  his 
voice  was  somewhat  husky,  "  the  Lord  will  reward  you 


THE    OVERSEER  199 

for  what  you  have  done.  While  others  have  been  simply 
talking,  you  have  been  acting.  Like  that  woman  of  old, 
you  have  done  what  you  could,  and  this  deed  of  love, 
believe  me,  will  be  remembered  in  the  parish  of  Glen- 
idow  for  generations  to  come.  You  may  go  now;  you 
have  done  your  part." 


CHAPTER  XXI 
DECISION 

WITII  his  chair  drawn  up  close  to  the  window, 
Parson  John  watched  the  people  as  they  moved 
along  the  road  to  and  from  the  church.  He 
recognized  them  all,  and  knew  them  hy  their  horses 
when  some  distance  away.  As  clothes  betray  a  person 
when  his  face  is  not  observable,  so  do  horses  and  sleighs 
on  a  country  road.  They  seem  to  be  vital  parts  of  the 
owners,  and  to  separate  them  would  be  fatal.  Xo  one 
could  imagine  Mrs.  Stickles  seated  in  a  finely-uphol- 
stered sleigh  and  driving  a  high-mettled  horse.  She 
and  Sammy,  the  home-made  pung  and  the  old  lean 
mare  plodding  onward,  were  inseparably  connected  with 
the  parish  of  Glendow.  The  parson's  face  brightened 
as  he  saw  this  quaint  conveyance  shaking  along  the 
road.  In  Mrs.  Stickles  he  knew  he  would  have  one 
champion  at  least,  though  all  the  others  should  turn 
against  him.  Team  after  team  he  watched,  but  none 
turned  aside  into  the  Rectory  gate  to  say  a  word  to  the 
/old  grey-headed  man,  sitting  before  the  window. 

The  hours  dragged  slowly  by,  and  still  he  sat  there. 
Nellie  went  quietly  about  her  household  duties,  but  a 
great  weight  kept  pressing  upon  her  heart.  Her  father 
was  so  quiet,  took  no  interest  in  his  books,  and  did  no 

200 


DECISION  201 

writing.  Often  she  would  stop  and  watch  him  as  he 
sat  there.  He  seemed  to  be  greyer  than  usual ;  his  head 
was  more  bent,  and  his  face  wore  a  sad,  pained  expres- 
sion. "  If  he  would  only  utter  some  word  of  com- 
plaint," thought  Nellie,  "  it  would  not  be  so  hard.  But 
to  see  that  dumb,  appealing  look  is  almost  more  than  I 
can  bear." 

Though  very  quiet,  Parson  John  was  fighting  a  hard, 
stern  battle.  His  eyes  were  often  turned  towards  the 
road,  but  his  thoughts  were  mostly  upon  other  things. 
Over  his  desk  hung  two  pictures,  and  occasionally  his 
gaze  rested  upon  these.  One  was  that  of  a  sweet-faced 
woman,  who  looked  down  upon  him  with  gentle,  loving 
eyes — such  eyes  as  Nellie  inherited. 

"  Ruth,  Ruth,"  he  murmured,  "  my  darling  wife. 
Thirty-five  years  since  I  brought  you  here  as  a  fair 
young  bride.  Thirty-five  years !  "SYe  knew  not  then 
what  lay  before  us.  We  knew  not  then  how  one  must 
walk  for  years  by  himself  and  at  last  tread  the  wine- 
press alone." 

His  eyes  drifted  to  the  other  picture  hanging  there — 
the  Master  kneeling  alone  in  Gethsemane.  Long  he 
looked  upon  that  prostrate  figure  with  the  upturned 
face.  He  thought  of  His  agony  in  the  Garden,  the  be- 
trayal, desertion  and  suffering.  "  I  have  trodden  the 
winepress  alone,"  he  softly  whispered  as  into  his  face 
came  a  new  light  of  peace  and  strength.  Opening  a 
well-worn  volume  lying  on  the  desk  he  read  again  that 
Garden  scene,  when  the  Master  knelt  and  fought  His 
terrible  battle.    Forgotten  for  a  brief  space  were  his  own 


202  THE    FOURTH    WATCH 

trials  as  he  pored  over  that  sacred  page.  How  often 
had  he  read  that  story,  and  meditated  upon  every  word, 
but  never  before  did  he  realize  the  full  significance  of 
the  scene.  "  Wonderful,  wonderful,"  he  murmured 
again,  as  he  reverently  closed  the  Book.  "  Thank  God 
— oh,  thank  God  for  that  life  of  suffering  and  sorrow! 
He  knows  our  human  needs.  lie  trod  the  winepress 
alone,  and  must  I,  His  unworthy  servant,  expect  to  es- 
cape ?  So,  my  Father,  do  with  me  what  is  best.  '  Not 
my  will,  but  Thine  be  done.'  " 

At  this  moment  Nellie  entered  the  room.  She  no- 
ticed the  changed  expression  upon  hor  father's  face,  and, 
crossing  to  where  he  was,  stood  by  his  side. 

"  Do  you  feel  better,  father  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Yes,  dear.  My  heart  was  very  heavy  a  short  time 
ago,  but  it  is  lighter  now.  I  seem  to  see  my  way  more 
clearly.  The  darkness  has  passed,  and  a  new  peace  has 
come  to  me.    Will  you  sing  something  for  me,  dearie  ?  " 

"  Certainly,  father.     What  shall  it  bo  ?  " 

"  Your  mother's  favorite  hymn.  The  one  she  sang 
just  before  she  left  us." 

Taking  her  seat  at  the  little  harmonium,  Nellie  gently 
touched  the  keys,  and  in  a  clear,  sweet  voice  sang  tho 
old  favourite  hymn : 

"  The  sands  of  Time  are  sinking, 

The  dawn  of  Heaven  breaks, 
The  summer  morn  I've  sighed  for, 

The  fair,  sweet  mora  awakes. 
Dark,  dark  has  been  the  midnight, 

But  dayspring  is  at  hand, 
And  glory,  glory  dwelleth 

In  Emmanuel's  land." 


DECISION  203 

Softly  she  sang  the  whole  hymn  through,  her  father 
leaning  hack  in  his  chair  with  closed  eyes,  drinking  in 
every  word  and  sound. 

"  I've  wrestled  on  towards  Heaven, 
'Gainst  storm  and  wind  and  tide; 
Lord,  grant  thy  weary  traveller 
To  lean  on  Thee  as  guide." 

"  That's  what  I  must  do  now,  Nellie.  '  Lean  on  Him 
as  guide.'  Oh,  it  gives  me  such  comfort.  And  lie  will 
guide  right ;  we  must  never  doubt  that." 

When  the  Bishop  had  finished  his  investigation  in 
the  vestry,  he  sighed  as  he  closed  his  small  grip  and  left 
the  church.  Slowly  he  walked  up  the  road  lost  in  deep 
thought.  There  were  numerous  things  which  disturbed 
his  mind.  He  had  listened  to  what  the  people  had  to 
say,  but  everything  was  so  vague.  Yet  there  was  some 
mystery,  he  believed,  connected  with  the  whole  matter. 
That  missing  gold,  the  Hector's  need  of  money  and  then 
the  purchase  of  the  farm  were  still  shrouded  in  dark- 
ness. Thinking  thus  he  reached  the  Larkins'  house 
where  he  had  been  invited  to  tea. 

"  It  will  help  Nellie  to  have  the  Bishop  here,"  Mrs. 
Larkins  had  said  to  her  husband,  "  for  she  has  enough 
care  at  the  present  time." 

Keenly  she  watched  the  Bishop's  face  as  he  came  into 
the  house,  hoping  to  obtain  some  clue  to  his  thoughts. 
To  her  the  trouble  at  the  Eectory  was  as  her  own,  and 
she  longed  to  know  the  outcome  of  the  investigation. 
iA.t  first  she  dreaded  the  thought  of  having  the  Bishop  to 


204  THE    FOUETH    WATCH 

tea.  Had  she  not  often  heard  of  his  sharp,  abrupt  man- 
ner? Anxiously  she  scanned  the  tea-table,  with  its 
spotless  linen,  with  everything  so  neatly  arranged,  and 
wondered  what  she  had  omitted.  Her  fears  were  soon 
dispelled,  however,  for  the  Bishop  made  himself  per- 
fectly at  home.  It  was  a  pleasure  to  him  to  sit  at  the 
table  with  these  two  true,  honest  souls,  of  whom  he  had 
heard  much  from  Parson  John.  They  were  so  natural, 
and  made  no  effort  to  be  what  they  were  not. 

"  You  must  be  tired,  my  Lord,"  said  Mrs.  Larkins, 
"  after  this  trying  day." 

"  ]STot  so  much  tired  as  puzzled,"  was  the  reply. 

"  And  did  you  get  no  light  on  the  matter  ?  " 

"  Not  a  bit.  Look  at  all  those  notes  I  took — not 
worth  the  paper  on  which  they  are  written.  Everything 
is  hearsay — nothing  definite.  And  yet  there  is  some 
mystery  attached  to  the  whole  affair.  I  am  sorely  puz- 
zled about  that  missing  gold  and  where  the  Hector  ob- 
tained the  money  to  buy  that  farm." 

"  And  didn't  he  tell  you,  my  Lord  ?  "  asked  Mrs. 
Larkins,  pausing  in  the  act  of  pouring  the  tea. 

"  Xo,  he  will  not  tell  me.  He  is  as  silent  as  the 
grave.  When  I  pressed  him  to  speak  and  thus  clear 
himself,  he  begged  me  with  tears  in  his  eyes  not  to  urge 
him.  '  It's  honest  money/  he  said,  '  which  purchased 
the  farm,  but  I  can  tell  you  no  more  now.'  " 

"  You  have  heard,  my  Lord,  that  he  is  involved  in 
some  mining  transaction  out  in  British  Columbia.  It 
is  now  in  litigation  and  the  parson  is  contributing  all  he 
possibly  can." 


DECISION  205 

"  Yes,  I  learned  of  that  to-day,  and  it  only  tends  to 
complicate  matters.  I  cannot  believe  that  your  Rector 
had  anything  to  do  with  that  gold.  But  oh,  if  he  would 
only  explain.  Are  you  sure  that  that  box  is  not  still 
among  the  ashes  and  ruins  of  the  old  house  ?  " 

"  I  am  certain  it  is  not  there,"  Mr.  Larkins  replied. 
"  We  have  searched  the  place  thoroughly,  and  even 
sifted  the  ashes,  but  all  in  vain.  Xot  a  trace  could  we 
find  of  the  box  or  the  gold." 

The  evening  was  somewhat  advanced  as  the  Bishop 
bade  the  Larkins  good-night  and  made  his  way  over  to 
the  Eectory.  He  found  Parson  John  seated  in  a  deep 
chair,  gazing  silently  before  him.  ISTellie  was  sitting 
near  reading,  or  trying  to  read.  She  greeted  the 
Bishop  with  a  bright  smile,  drew  up  a  chair  for  him  to 
the  pleasant  fire,  and  took  his  hat  and  coat. 

"  Have  I  kept  you  up,  ISTellie  ?  "  he  asked.  "  Your 
father  must  be  tired." 

"  Xo,  no,  my  Lord,"  she  replied.  "  It  is  not  late 
yet.     But  you  must  be  tired." 

"  A  little,  my  dear.  The  day  has  been  somewhat 
trying." 

From  the  time  he  had  entered  Parson  John  had  kept 
his  eyes  fixed  full  upon  the  Bishop's  face  with  a  mute, 
questioning  look  which  spoke  louder  than  words. 
"  What  have  you  found  out  ?  "  He  seemed  to  be  saying. 
"  What  stories  have  they  been  telling  about  me  ?  Who 
have  been  my  foes  and  friends  ?  " 

"  The  vestry  was  converted  into  quite  a  court-room 
to-day,"  said  the  Bishop,  reading  the  questioning  look 


206  THE    FOURTH    WATCH 

in  the  parson's  face.  "  There  were  certainly  several 
lively  scenes,  especially  when  Mrs.  Stickles  made  her 
appearance." 

"  You  have  reached  a  conclusion  then,  I  suppose  ?  " 
and  Mr.  "Westmore  loaned  eagerly  forward. 

"  No,  not  vet.  I  cannot  give  my  decision  now.  I 
want  to  think  it  carefully  over,  and  shall  notify  you 
by  letter." 

"  I  thank  you,  my  Lord,  for  the  trouhle  you  have 
taken  in  the  matter,"  and  the  parson  resumed  hi9 
former  position.  "  But  I  have  been  thinking  deeply 
since  hearing  these  reports  concerning  me,  and  my; 
mind  is  made  up  as  to  the  course  I  shall  pursue." 

"  Indeed,  and  in  what  way  ?  "  queried  the  Bishop. 

"  To-morrow  morning  I  shall  hand  to  you  my  resig- 
nation of  this  parish." 

The  effect  of  these  words  was  startling,  and  Nellie's 
face  went  very  white  as  she  glanced  quickly  at  her 
father. 

"  Do  you  mean  it  ?  "  inquired  the  Bishop. 

"  Yes,  my  Lord.  I  have  not  come  to  this  decision 
without  much  thought,  prayer,  and  struggle.  I  have 
been  too  blind.  I  forgot  how  old  I  am,  though  God 
knows  my  heart  is  as  young  as  ever.  It's  only  natural 
that  the  people  of  Glendow  should  desire  a  change;  a 
man  who  will  infuse  new  life  into  the  work,  and  draw 
in  the  wandering  and  indifferent  ones.  May  God  for- 
give me  that  I  did  not  think  of  it  before!  " 

Ilis  head  drooped  low  as  he  uttered  these  words,  and 
the  pathos  of  his  voice  denoted  the  intensity  of  his  feel- 


DECISION  207 

ings.  It  was  impossible  not  to  be  much  moved  at  the 
figure  of  this  venerable  man,  this  veteran  warrior  of 
his  church,  without  one  word  of  complaint,  willing  to 
relinquish  all,  to  give  up  the  command  to  another,  that 
the  Master's  work  might  be  strengthened.  The  Bishop 
was  visibly  affected,  although  he  endeavoured  to  con- 
ceal his  emotion. 

"  Westmore,"  he  replied,  "  I  always  believed  you  to 
be  a  noble  man  of  God,  though  I  never  knew  it  as  I  do 
to-night.  But  where  will  you  go  if  you  leave  Glendow  ? 
How  will  you  live  ?  " 

"  I  am  not  worrying  about  that.  He  who  has  guided 
me  all  of  these  years ;  He,  who  has  given  me  strength  for 
the  battle,  will  not  forsake  me  now  in  my  fourth 
and  last  watch  when  I  am  old  and  grey-headed.  My 
brother  and  his  wife  at  Morristown  have  for  years  been 
urging  us  to  pay  them  a  long  visit.  We  will  go  to  them, 
and  stay  there  for  a  time.  Perhaps  the  Master  will 
open  to  me  some  door  in  His  vineyard  that  I  may  do 
a  little  more  work  ere  He  take  me  hence.  I  have  no 
means  of  my  own,  but  the  parish  owes  me  six  months' 
salary,  and  no  doubt  the  people  will  gladly  pay  it  now 
to  be  rid  of  me." 

"  Why  not  sell  that  farm  you  purchased  ?  "  suggested 
the  Bishop.  "  It  should  bring  a  fair  price,  and  the 
money  would  keep  you  for  some  time.  I  cannot  place 
you  on  the  Superannuated  list  at  present,  but  there 
may  be  a  vacancy  soon  and  the  money  from  the  sale  of 
the  farm  will  keep  you  until  then." 

"  I  can't  sell  the  place,  my  Lord,  it  is  impossible." 


208  THE    FOURTH    WATCH 

"  But  you  bought  it;  it  is  yours." 

"  It's  not  mine  to  soil !     It's  not  mine  to  sell !  " 

The  look  upon  the  old  man's  face  and  the  pathos  of 
his  words  restrained  the  Bishop  from  saying  more  on 
the  subject. 

"  And  so  you  think  you  must  go  ?  "  he  remarked  after 
a  painful  silence. 

"  Yes,  I  see  nothing  else  to  do." 

"  But  remember  all  have  not  turned  against  you. 
See  this  list,"  and  the  Bishop  handed  over  the  petition 
!Mrs.  Stickles  had  given  him. 

Eagerly  the  parson  read  the  words,  and  scanned  the 
names  scrawled  below. 

"  And  did  Mrs.  Stickles  do  this  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Yes.  She  went  up  and  down  the  parish  fur  three 
days." 

"  God  bless  the  woman!  "  murmured  Mr.  "Westmore. 
"  "What  a  comfort  this  is  to  me ;  to  know  that  all  have 
not  deserted  me.  I  did  not  expect  it.  But  it  will  not 
change  my  mind.  My  eyes  have  been  suddenly  opened 
to  my  own  inability  to  do  the  work.  Another  will  do 
much  better.  I've  explained  everything  to  you,  my 
Lord,  that  I  can  explain,  and  about  that  horse-race,  too. 
It  is  better  for  me  to  go." 

"  Father,"  said  Xellie,  "  let  us  go  to  Uncle  Reuben's 
for  a  month  or  so.  You  need  a  resi,  and  a  vacation  will 
do  you  good.  Perhaps  then  you  will  see  things  differ- 
ently." 

"  Capital  idea !  "  exclaimed  the  Bishop.     "  It's  just 


DECISION  209 

the  thing!  Go  to  your  brother's  and  stay  there  for  a 
month  or  two." 

"  But  what  about  the  parish  ?  It  will  be  left  vacant 
the  whole  of  that  time.  If  I  resign  a  new  Rector  can 
take  charge  at  once." 

"  Oh,  I  will  arrange  for  that,"  responded  the  Bishop. 
"  There  is  a  young  man  fresh  from  college  who  will  be 
ordained  shortly.  I  will  send  him  here  during  your 
absence.  We  will  thus  give  the  people  a  change,  and 
then,  no  doubt,  they  will  be  glad  enough  to  have  you 
back  again." 

Parson  John  sat  for  some  time  in  deep  meditation, 
while  Xellie  watched  him  with  an  anxious  face.  The 
clock  in  the  room  ticked  loudly,  and  the  fire  crackled 
in  the  hearth. 

"  Very  well,"  he  assented  at  length  with  a  deep  sigh. 
"  If  you  think  it  best,  my  Lord,  that  this  should  be 
done  I  shall  not  oppose  your  wish.  But  I  am  firmly 
convinced  that  it  will  be  just  the  same  as  if  I  resigned. 
When  once  the  new  man  comes  and  begins  the  work, 
the  people  will  not  want  their  old  Bector  back  again. 
But,  nevertheless,  it  will  be  all  for  the  best.  *  llj  times 
are  in  His  hands,'  and  I  feel  sure  that  ever  '  underneath 
are  the  Everlasting  Arms.'  " 


CHAPTER  XXII 
m   THE  DEEP  OF  THE  nEART 

IT  did  not  take  long  for  the  news  of  Parson  John's 
intended  departure  to  spread  throughout  Glen- 
do  w. 

Tongues  -were  once  more  loosened  and  numerous 
conjectures  made. 

"  Guess  the  Bishop  found  things  pretty  crooked," 
remarked  one,  "  an'  thinks  it  high  time  for  the  parson 
to  g°A  out." 

"  I've  thought  the  same  myself,"  replied  another. 
"  The  parson's  been  dabblin'  too  much  in  furren  affairs. 
As  I  was  tellin'  my  missus  last  night,  we  never  know 
what  will  happen  next.  When  them  as  is  leaders  goes 
astray,  what  kin  be  expected  of  the  sheep  ?  I've  given 
a  bag  of  pertaters  each  year  to  support  the  church,  but 
dang  me  if  I  do  it  any  more !  " 

But  while  some  saw  only  the  dark  side  and  believed 
the  parson  to  be  guilty,  there  were  others  who  stood 
nobly  by  him  in  his  time  of  trial.  Various  were  the 
calls  made,  some  people  driving  for  miles  to  say  good- 
bye, and  to  express  their  regrets  at  his  departure. 

Among  the  number  was  Mrs.  Stickles.  She  was  the 
first  to  arrive,  and,  bustling  out  of  the  old  broken-down 

210 


IN    THE    DEEP    OF    THE    HEART     211 

wagon,  she  seized  the  parson's  hand  in  a  mighty  grip 
as  he  met  her  at  the  gate. 

"  God  bless  ye,  sir!  "  she  ejaculated.  "I'm  more'n 
delighted  to  see  ye.  I  was  on  me  knees  scrubbin'  the 
kitchen  floor  when  Patsy  Garlick  dropped  in  an'  told 
me  the  news.  It  so  overcome  me  that  I  flopped  right 
down  an'  bawled  like  a  calf." 

"  Dear  me !  dear  me !  "  replied  the  Rector.  "  What's 
wrong  ?  did  you  receive  bad  news  ?  I  hope  nothing's 
the  matter  with  Tony." 

"  Oh,  no.  I  don't  mean  'im,  sir,  though  I  ain't  heered 
from  'im  fer  months  now.  He's  so  shet  up  thar  in  the 
woods  that  it's  hard  to  hear.  But  I  feel  he's  all  right, 
fer  if  he  wasn't  I'd  soon  know  about  it.  No,  it's  not 
fer  'im  I  bawled,  but  fer  you  an'  the  darlin'  lass.  To 
think  that  ye  are  to  leave  us  so  soon !  " 

"  Oh,  I  see,"  and  the  parson  placed  his  hand  to  his 
forehead.  "  Thank  you  very  much  for  your  kindness, 
Mrs.  Stickles,  and  for  what  you  did  concerning  that 
petition.  So  you  have  come  all  the  way  to  bid  us 
good-bye.  You  must  go  into  the  house  at  once,  and 
have  a  bite  with  us.  I  shall  send  Dan  to  give  the  horse 
some  hay." 

"  Thank  ye,  sir.  I  didn't  come  expectin'  to  be  taken 
in  an'  fed,  but  seein'  as  it'll  be  some  time  afore  I  hev 
sich  a  privilege  agin,  I  don't  mind  if  I  do." 

Spring  had  now  come  in  real  earnest.  The  days  were 
balmy,  the  sun  poured  its  bright  rays  upon  hill  and 
valley,  and  the  snow  disappeared  as  if  by  magic. 
Thousands  of  streams  and  rivulets  rushed  racing  down 


212  TIIE    FOURTH    WATCH 

to  the  river,  sparkling  and  babbling,  glad  of  their  re- 
lease from  winter's  stern  grip.  The  early  birds  had 
returned,  filling  the  air  with  their  sweet  music,  and  the 
trees,  awakened  from  their  long  slumber,  were  putting 
forth  their  green  buds.  Everything  spoke  of  freshness 
and  peace. 

But  within  the  Rectory  there  was  an  unusual  silence. 
A  gloom  pervaded  the  house,  which  even  Nellie's 
sunny  presence  could  not  dispel.  Dan  had  disappeared, 
and  no  trace  of  him  could  be  found.  lie  had  departed 
in  the  night  so  silently  that  even  Nellie's  ever-watchful 
ear  did  not  hear  his  footsteps  upon  the  floor.  They 
knew  no  reason  why  the  lad  should  do  such  a  thing, 
and  anxiously  they  discussed  the  matter  over  the  break- 
fast-table. Inquiries  were  made  throughout  the  parish, 
which  only  served  to  set  tongues  wagging  more  than 
ever. 

"  I  knew  when  the  parson  took  him  in,"  said  one 
knowing  person,  "  that  something  'ud  happen.  Ye  can 
never  tell  about  sich  waifs.  They  generally  amount  to 
nuthin'  or  worse." 

Nellie  missed  Dan  very  much.  She  had  come  to  love 
the  lad  with  all  his  quaint  ways  and  dreamy  far-away 
look.  He  had  always  been  so  ready  to  do  anything  for 
her,  and  often  she  found  him  watching  her  with  wonder- 
ing eyes.  In  her  heart  she  could  not  believe  that  the 
boy  had  run  away  because  he  was  tired  of  living  at  the 
Rectory.  She  felt  sure  there  must  be  some  other 
reason,  and  often  she  puzzled  her  brain  trying  to  solve 
the  problem. 


IN    THE    DEEP    OF    THE    HEART     213 

As  the  days  passed  preparations  were  made  for  their 
departure.  There  was  much  to  do,  for  numerous  things 
they  must  take  with  them.  The  parson  took  but  little 
interest  in  what  was  going  on.  He  seemed  to  he  living 
in  another  world.  So  long  had  he  lived  at  the  Rectory 
that  the  building  had  become  almost  a  part  of  him- 
self. How  many  sacred  associations  were  attached  to 
each  room !  Here  his  children  had  been  born ;  here  he 
had  watched  them  grow,  and  from  that  front  door  three 
times  had  loving  hands  borne  forth  three  bodies, — two, 
oh,  so  young  and  tender — to  their  last  earthly  resting- 
place  in  the  little  churchyard.  In  youth  it  is  not  so 
hard  to  sever  the  bonds  which  unite  us  to  a  loved 
spot.  They  have  not  had  time  fully  to  mature,  and 
new  associations  are  easily  made  and  the  first  soon 
forgotten.  But  in  old  age  it  is  different.  New  con- 
nections are  not  easily  formed,  and  the  mind  lives  so 
much  in  the  past,  with  those  whom  we  have  "  loved 
long  since  and  lost  awhile." 

It  was  hard  for  Nellie  to  watch  her  father  as  the 
days  sped  by.  From  room  to  room  he  wandered,  stand- 
ing for  some  time  before  a  familiar  object,  now  a 
picture  and  again  a  piece  of  furniture.  Old  chords  of 
memory  were  awakened.  They  were  simple,  common 
household  effects  of  little  intrinsic  value.  But  to  him 
they  were  fragrant  with  precious  associations,  like  old 
roses  pressed  between  the  pages  of  a  book,  recalling  dear 
and  far-off,  half-forgotten  days. 

Nellie,  too,  felt  keenly  the  thought  of  leaving  the 
Eectory.     It  had  been  her  only  home.     Here  had  she 


214:  THE    FOURTH    WATCH 

been  born,  and  here,  too,  bad  she  known  so  much  happi- 
ness. Somehow  she  felt  it  would  never  again  be  the 
same;  that  the  parting  of  the  ways  had  at  last  arrived. 
Her  mind  turned  often  towards  Stephen.  She  had 
seen  him  but  little  of  late.  Formerly  he  had  been  so 
much  at  the  Rectory.  Seldom  a  day  had  passed  that 
6he  did  not  see  him.  But  now  it  was  so  different. 
Sometimes  for  a  whole  week,  and  already  it  had  been  a 
fortnight  since  he  had  been  there.  She  knew  how  busy 
he  was  bringing  his  logs  down  to  the  river.  He  had 
told  her  that  stream  driving  would  soon  begin,  when 
every  hour  would  be  precious  to  catch  the  water  while 
it  served.  She  knew  this,  and  yet  the  separation  was 
harder  than  she  had  expected.  There  was  an  ache  in 
her  heart  which  she  could  not  describe.  Often  she 
chidcd  herself  at  what  she  called  her  foolishness.  But 
every  evening  while  sitting  in  the  room  she  would  start 
at  any  footstep  on  the  platform,  and  a  deep  flush  would 
suffuse  her  face.  She  had  come  to  realize  during  the 
time  of  waiting  what  Stephen  really  meant  to  her. 

Thus  while  Nellie  worked  and  thought  in  the  Rectory, 
Stephen  with  his  men  was  urging  his  drive  of  logs 
down  the  rough  and  crooked  Pennack  stream.  How  he 
did  work!  There  was  no  time  to  be  lost,  for  the  water 
night  suddenly  fall  off  and  leave  the  logs  stranded  far 
from  the  river.  All  day  long  he  wrestled  with  the 
monsters  of  the  forest.  At  night  there  was  the  brief 
rest,  then  up  and  on  again  in  the  morning.  But  ever 
as  he  handled  the  peevy  there  stood  before  him  the 
rision  of  the  sweet-faced  woman  at  the  Rectory.     She 


IN    THE    DEEP    OF    THE    HEAKT     215 

it  was  who  had  moved  him  to  action,  and  inspired  him 
through  days  of  discouragement.  His  deep  love  for 
her  was  transforming  him  into  a  man.  He  longed  to 
go  to  her,  to  comfort  her  in  her  time  of  trouble.  But  he 
must  not  leave  his  work  now.  Too  much  depended 
upon  that  drive  coming  out,  and  she  would  understand. 
So  day  by  day  he  kept  to  his  task,  and  not  until  the 
last  log  had  shot  safely  into  the  boom  in  the  creek  below 
did  he  throw  down  his  peevy.  It  was  late  in  the  even- 
ing as  he  sprang  ashore  and  started  up  the  road.  Hi3 
heart  was  happy.  He  had  accomplished  the  undertak- 
ing he  had  set  out  to  perform. 

And  while  Stephen  trudged  homeward  Nellie  sat  in 
the  little  sitting-room,  her  fingers  busy  with  her  needle. 
All  things  had  been  completed  for  their  departure, 
which  was  to  take  place  on  the  morrow.  Parson  John 
had  retired  early  to  rest,  and  Nellie  was  doing  a  little 
sewing  which  was  needed.  The  fire  burned  in  the 
grate  as  usual,  for  the  evening  was  chill,  and  the  light 
from  the  lamp  flooded  her  face  and  hair  with  a  soft, 
gentle  radiance.  Perfect  type  of  womanhood  was  she, 
graceful  in  form,  fair  in  feature,  the  outward  visible 
signs  of  a  pure  and  inward  spiritual  nobleness. 

So  did  she  seem  to  the  man  standing  outside  and  look- 
ing  upon  her  through  the  window  with  fond,  loving 
eyes.  His  knock  upon  the  door  startled  the  quiet  worker. 
She  rose  to  her  feet,  moved  forward,  and  then  hesitated. 
Who  could  it  be  at  such  an  hour  ?  for  it  was  almost 
eleven  o'clock.  Banishing  her  fear  she  threw  open  the 
door,  and  great  was  her  surprise  to  behold  the  one  of 


216  THE    FOURTH    WATCH 

whom  she  had  just  been  thinking  standing  there.  For 
a  brief  space  of  time  neither  spoke,  but  stood  looking 
into  each  other's  eyes.  Then,  "  Stephen,"  said  Xellie, 
and  her  voice  trembled,  "  I  didn't  expect  to  see  you 
to-night.     Is  anything  wrong?" 

j      "  Xo,  not  with  me,"  Stephen  replied  as  he  entered. 
I  "  But  with  you,  Xellie,  there  is  trouble,  and  I  want  to 
tell  you  how  I  feel  for  you.     I  wanted  to  come  before ; 
but  you  understand." 

"  Yes,  I  know,  Stephen,"  and  Xellie  took  a  chair 
near  the  fire. 

As  Stephen  looked  down  upon  her  as  she  sat  there, 
how  he  longed  to  put  his  strong  arm  about  her  and 
comfort  her.  lie  had  planned  to  say  many  things 
which  he  had  thought  out  for  days  before.  But  nothing 
now  would  come  to  his  lips.  He  stood  as  if  stricken 
dumb. 

"  Xellie." 

"  Stephen." 

Silence  reigned  in  the  room.  Their  hearts  beat  fast. 
Each  realized  what  that  silence  meant,  and  yet  neither 
spoke.  With  a  great  effort  Stephen  crushed  back  the 
longing  to  tell  her  all  that  was  in  his  heart,  and  to  claim 
her  for  his  own.  Would  she  refuse  ?  He  did  not  be- 
lieve so.  But  he  was  not  worthy  of  her  love — no,  not 
yet.  He  must  prove  himself  a  man  first.  He  must 
redeem  the  homestead,  and  then  he  would  speak.  Sharp 
and  fierce  was  the  struggle  raging  in  his  breast.  He 
had  thought  it  would  be  a  simple  matter  to  come  and 
talk  to  her  on  this  night.     He  would  bid  her  a  con- 


IN    THE    DEEP    OF    THE    HEART     217 

ventional  good-bye,  and  go  back  to  his  work,  cheered 
and  strengthened.  But  he  little  realized  how  his  heart 
would  be  stirred  by  her  presence  as  she  sat  there  bowed 
in  trouble. 

"  Xellie,"  he  said  at  length,  taking  a  seat  near  by. 
"  I'm  very  sorry  you're  going  away.  "What  will  the 
place  be  like  without  you  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I'm  sorry  to  go,  Stephen,"  was  the  low  reply. 
"  'Tis  hard  to  go  away  from  home,  especially  under — 
under  a  cloud." 

"  But,  surely,  Xellie,  you  don't  think  the  people 
believe  those  stories  ?  " 

"  Xo,  not  all.  But  some  do,  and  it's  so  hard  on 
father.  He  has  had  so  much  trouble  lately  with  that 
mining  property  in  British  Columbia,  and  now  this  has 
come." 

Stephen  sat  thinking  for  a  while  before  he  spoke. 
"When  at  last  he  did  he  looked  searchingly  into  Xellie's 
face. 

"  There  is  something  which  puzzles  me  very  much, 
and  partly  for  that  reason  I  have  come  to  see  you  to- 
night." 

"  Anything  more  in  connection  with  father, 
Stephen?" 

"  Yes.  Xora  has  been  worse  of  late,  and  the  doctor 
said  that  the  only  hope  of  curing  her  was  to  send  her  to 
Xew  York  to  a  specialist.  Mother  was  very  much  de- 
pressed, for  we  have  no  means,  and  under  the  circum- 
stances it  is  so  hard  to  hire  money.  I  had  about  made 
up  my  mind  to  get  some  money  advanced  on  the  logs. 


219  TIIE    FOUKTH    WATCH 

I  would  do  anything  for  bora's  sake.  The  next  day 
your  father  came  to  see  her,  and  mother  was  telling 
him  what  the  doctor  said,  and  how  much  he  thought 
it  would  cost.  Two  days  later  your  father  sent  mother 
a  cheque  for  the  full  amount,  with  a  letter  begging  her 
to  keep  the  matter  as  quiet  as  possible.  I  cannot  under- 
stand it  at  all.  I  know  your  father  is  in  great  need 
of  money,  and  yet  he  can  spare  that  large  sum.  Do 
you  know  anything  about  it  ?  " 

Nellie  listened  to  these  words  with  fast  beating  heart. 
Sho  knew  her  father  had  been  over  to  bid  Mrs.  Frenelle 
and  Nora  good-bye,  but  he  had  said  nothing  to  her 
about  giving  the  money.  The  mystery  was  certainly 
deepening.  Where  had  that  money  come  from  ?  A 
sudden  thought  stabbed  her  mind.  She  banished  it  in- 
stantly, however,  while  her  face  crimsoned  to  think  thafc 
she  should  believe  anything  so  unworthy  of  her  father. 

"  Nellie,"  Stephen  questioned,  after  he  had  waited 
some  time  for  her  to  speak,  "  do  you  know  anything 
about  it  ?  " 

"  No,  Stephen ;  nothing.  It  is  all  a  great  puzzle. 
But  it  is  honest  money !  Never  doubt  that !  Father 
keeps  silence  for  some  purpose,  I  am  sure.  He  will 
tell  us  some  day.     "We  must  wait  and  be  patient !  " 

She  was  standing  erect  now,  her  eyes  glowing  with 
the  light  of  determination,  and  her  small,  shapely  hands 
were  clenched.  She  had  thought  of  what  people  would 
gay  if  they  heard  this.  It  would  be  like  oil  to  fire. 
No,  they  must  never  know  it. 

u  Stephen,"  she  cried,  "  promise  me  before  God  that 


IN    THE    DEEP    OF    THE    HEART     219 

you  will  not  tell  anyone  outside  of  your  family  about 
that  money !  " 

"  I  promise,  Nellie.  Did  you  think  I  would  tell  ?  I 
know  mother  and  Nora  will  not.    Did  you  doubt  me?  " 

"  No,  Stephen,  I  did  not  doubt  you.  But,  oh,  I  do 
not  know  what  to  think  these  days !  My  mind  is  in 
such  a  whirl  all  the  time,  and  my  heart  is  so  heavy 
over  the  puzzling  things  which  have  happened.  I  just 
long  to  lie  down  and  rest,  rest,  forever." 

"  You're  tired,  Nellie,"  replied  Stephen,  as  he 
straightened  himself  up  in  an  effort  to  control  his 
own  feelings.  "  You  must  rest  now,  and  you  will  be 
stronger  to-morrow.  Good-bye,  Nellie,  God  bless  you," 
and  before  she  could  say  a  word  he  had  caught  her  hand 
in  his,  kissed  it  fervently,  flung  open  the  door,  and  dis- 
appeared into  the  night. 


CHAPTER  XXIII 
WHERE  IS  DAN  ? 

DURTXG  the  whole  of  this  time  of  excitement  Dan 
had  been  doing  his  own  share  of  thinking.  He 
heard  the  rumours  of  the  parish,  listened  to 
the  stories  told  at  the  store  or  blacksmith  shop,  tucked 
thorn  away  in  his  retentive  mind,  and  brooded  over 
them  by  day  and  night.  The  purpose  which  had  taken 
possession  of  him  as  he  sat  by  the  parson's  side  during 
his  lonely  watch  in  Stephen's  camp  grew  stronger  as 
the  days  passed  by.  He  told  no  one,  not  even  Xellie, 
what  was  in  his  mind.  It  was  a  sacred  thing  to  him, 
and  he  dreamed  over  it,  as  a  mother  over  her  unborn 
child.  Xot  until  the  dream  had  become  a  reality,  a 
living  deed,  must  the  world  know  of  it. 

Formerly  he  had  been  indifferent  as  to  his  studies. 
His  listless  manner  was  a  great  cause  of  worry  to 
Xellie.  Rut  after  the  accident  a  change  took  place. 
His  eagerness  to  know  how  to  write  surprised  her. 
Often  she  found  him  painfully  scrawling  huge  letters 
upon  any  old  piece  of  paper  he  happened  to  find.  Time 
and  time  again  he  asked  her  how  to  spell  certain  words, 
and  when  she  had  printed  them  for  him  he  copied  them 
over  and  over  again  with  the  greatest  care.  Every  day 
he  watched  the  mail-carrier   as  he   rattled  by  in  hie 

220 


WHERE    IS    DAN?  221 

rude  buckboard.  To  him  this  man  was  a  wonderful 
being.  Knowing  nothing  of  the  postal  system,  Dan 
imagined  that  Si  Tower  conducted  the  whole  business 
himself.  "  How  much  he  must  know/'  he  thought, 
"  and  what  long  journeys  he  must  take."  It  was  there- 
fore with  considerable  trepidation  he  one  day  stood  by 
the  roadside  watching  the  postman  rattling  along. 

"  Hello,  kid  !  Watcher  want  ?  "  was  Si's  salutation 
as  he  pulled  in  his  old  nag,  and  glared,  down  upon  the 
boy. 

"  You  give  this  to  Tony,  please,"  and  Dan  held  up 
a  little  folded  slip  of  paper. 

Tower  looked  at  the  paper,  and  turned  over  the  wad 
of  tobacco  in  his  cheek  before  replying.  Then  a  quaint 
twinkle  shone  in  his  eyes. 

"  I  can't  take  that,"  he  said.  "  'Tain't  lawful.  Xo 
stamp.  Say,  kid,  guess  the  only  way  fer  ye  to  deliver 
that  is  to  take  it  yerself.  Git  up,  Bess,"  and  with  a 
hearty  laugh  the  postman  swung  on  his  way,  and  all  that 
day  told  the  story  wherever  he  stopped. 

"  Ye  should  have  seen  his  face  an'  eyes,"  he  chuckled. 
"  It  was  as  good  as  a  circus.  Thar  was  no  stamp  on  the 
letter,  an'  when  I  told  'im  to  go  himself  an'  deliver  it, 
he  jist  stared  at  me.  Ha,  ha,  it  was  too  funny  fer  any- 
thing." 

But  Dan,  as  he  stood  in  the  road  watching  Tower 
drive  away,  did  not  see  anything  funny.  His  faith  in 
the  postman  had  received  a  rude  shock.  His  hero  was 
made  of  common  clay  after  all.  He  sighed  as  he  walked 
back  to  the  house,  clutching  in  his  hands  the  little 


222  THE    FOURTH    WATCH 

crumpled  piece  of  paper.  As  the  days  passed  and  the 
new  trouble  arose  at  the  Rectory,  Dan  became  very 
restless.  lie  knew  of  everything  that  was  going  on, 
and  when  the  Bishop  arrived  he  gazed  upon  him  with 
awe  mingled  with  fear  and  anger.  Often  he  would 
draw  forth  the  letter,  from  a  deep,  capacious  pocket,  and 
look  long  and  carefully  upon  it. 

At  length  the  moment  arrived  when  his  mind  was 
fully  made  up.  lie  bade  Nellie  and  her  father  good- 
night, and  crept  upstairs  to  his  own  little  room.  For 
lorae  time  he  sat  upon  the  bed  lost  in  thought.  Ho 
heard  Nellie  come  up  the  stairs  and  enter  her  own 
room.  Drawing  up  the  blind  and  turning  down  the 
light,  he  looked  out  of  the  window.  How  dark  it  was, 
and  dismal.  He  would  wait  awhile  until  it  became 
lighter.  Throwing  himself  upon  the  bed  without  un- 
dressing, he  drew  a  quilt  over  him  and  ere  long  wag 
fast  asleep.  When  he  opened  his  eyes  a  dim  light  was 
struggling  in  through  the  window,  and  contending 
slowly  with  the  blackness  of  night.  Dan  was  sleepy, 
and  the  bed  so  comfortable,  that  he  longed  to  stay  where 
he  was.  But  this  feeling  was  soon  overcome,  and  spring- 
ing to  his  feet  he  stood  listening  and  alert,  as  a  creature 
of  the  wild  startled  from  its  lair.  Not  a  sound  disturbed 
the  house.  Everything  was  wrapped  in  silence.  Quietly 
he  moved  out  of  his  room,  and  crept  softly  down  the 
stairs,  fearful  lest  at  every  creak  Nellie  sho?  M  be 
aroused.  Reaching  the  kitchen  he  put  on  his  shoes, 
which  he  had  left  by  the  stove.  Next  he  wont  i  -to  the 
pantry,  found  some  cold  meat,  bread,  cheese  £.nd  bis- 


WHERE    IS    DAN?  223 

cuits.  A  paper  bag  lying  near  was  soon  filled  and 
securely  tied  with  a  stout  string.  Dan  sighed  as  he 
donned  his  cap,  drew  on  his  mittens,  closed  the  back 
door,  and  stood  by  the  little  outside  porch.  In  his 
heart  he  felt  it  was  wrong  to  go  away  without  telling 
Nellie  and  her  father  where  he  was  going.  But  on  the 
other  hand  he  was  quite  sure  they  would  not  be  willing 
for  him  to  go  so  far  away,  and  besides  he  did  not  wish 
to  tell  them  anything  until  the  deed  had  been  accom- 
plished. 

The  early  morning  air  was  cool,  clear  and  crisp. 
The  sun  had  not  yet  risen,  but  far  away  in  the  eastern 
sky  the  glory  of  another  new-born  day  was  clearly 
visible.  Dan's  heart  responded  to  the  freshness  and  the 
beauty  which  lay  around  him.  As  the  daylight  in- 
creased the  feeble  chirp  of  half-awakened  birds  fell 
upon  his  ears.  The  old  longing  for  the  wild  filled  his 
Boui.  He  thought  of  his  father,  the  little  cabin  in  the 
valley,  and  the  woodland  haunts  he  knew  and  loved  so 
dearly.  His  eyes  sparkled  with  animation,  and  the 
blood  tingled  and  surged  through  his  body.  He  felt 
like  shouting  at  the  mere  joy  of  being  alive. 

"  Guess  I  must  be  like  the  bears,"  he  thought.  "  They 
stay  in  their  dens  all  winter  and  come  out  in  the  spring. 
I'm  just  like  one  now." 

He  knew  the  direction,  for  had  he  not  listened  time 
and  time  again  to  the  conversations  in  the  store  ?  The 
talk  had  often  turned  upon  Rodgers  &  Peterson's  big 
lumbering  operations  in  Big  Creek  Valley.  Yes,  he 
wa*  sure  he  could  find  the  place.    Up  the  river  to  Rocky 


224  THE    FOURTH    WATCH 

Point,  from  thence  along  a  big  cove,  then  over  a  hill 
and  down  into  a  valley.  lie  had  dreamed  of  the  way; 
how  long  it  would  take  him,  and  what  he  would  say 
when  he  got  there.  All  day  long  he  plodded  steadily 
onward,  and  when  night  shut  down  he  stopped  by  a  large 
stack  of  hay  which  had  been  brought  from  the  lowlands 
when  the  river  was  frozen.  lie  was  tired,  and  the  soft 
hay  inviting.  Into  this  he  crawled,  and  ere  long  was 
fast  asleep.  Early  the  next  morning  he  was  up  and 
on  again.  Hia  supply  of  food  was  now  getting  low. 
At  noon  he  ruefully  viewed  the  little  that  was  left. 
"  Enough  only  for  supper,"  he  murmured.  "  Maybe 
I'll  get  there  to-morrow." 

During  the  day  he  learned  from  several  people  he  met 
that  he  was  on  the  right  road.  They  had  looked  with 
interest  upon  the  little  figure,  and  asked  him  numerous 
questions.  But  Dan  gave  only  indefinite  answers.  He 
wished  to  go  to  Big  Creek  Valley  to  Bodgers  &  Peter- 
son's lumber  camp.  "When  the  second  night  arrived  he 
was  very  weary  and  footsore.  He  had  eaten  his  last 
scrap  of  food  before  sundown,  and  as  he  trudged  on  he 
wondered  what  he  would  do  in  the  morning.  He  dis- 
liked the  idea  of  asking  at  any  of  the  farm-houses  for 
food.  His  father  had  always  scoffed  at  tramps  and 
beggars.  "  They  are  spongers,"  he  had  often  said, 
"  and  people  cannot  afford  to  have  such  useless  people 
around." 

That  word  "  sponger  "  as  it  came  to  Dan  caused  him 
to  straighten  himself  up  and  step  forward  more  quickly. 
He  was  not  a  sponger  now.     His  face  flushed  at  Far- 


WHERE    IS    DAN?  225 

rington's  insult.  He  would  show  the  whole  world  that 
he  could  pay  for  his  keep,  and  if  he  could  not  do  it  in 
one  way,  he  would  in  another. 

That  night  no  friendly  haystack  stood  by  the  road- 
side, but  over  there  in  the  field  he  saw  a  barn  near  a  - 
farm-house.  He  could  find  shelter  in  that.  Waiting 
until  it  was  dark,  he  crept  cautiously  through  a  small 
sheep  door,  and  entered.  He  heard  in  another  part  of 
the  building  the  cattle  munching  the  last  of  their  even- 
ing meal.  It  was  good  to  know  that  they  were  near,  and 
that  he  was  not  altogether  alone.  As  he  threw  himself 
upon  a  small  bunch  of  straw  which  he  found  as  he  felt 
around  with  his  hands,  a  great  feeling  of  loneliness 
came  over  him.  He  longed  for  the  Rectory  and  a 
glimpse  of  Nellie's  face.  Was  she  thinking  of  him,  he 
wondered,  or  had  she  forgotten  him,  and  believed  him 
to  be  an  ungrateful  scamp  ?  He  clenched  his  hands, 
and  the  blood  surged  to  his  face  as  he  thought  of  it.  No, 
he  would  show  her  he  was  not  a  scamp,  but  a  real  man. 
Oh,  she  should  know  what  he  could  do ! 

Thinking  thus  he  found  himself  no  longer  in  the 
barn,  but  back  again  at  the  Rectory.  He  could  see  the 
fire  burning  brightly  on  the  hearth,  and  a  number  of 
people  standing  around.  They  were  all  looking  upon 
him,  and  he  saw  the  doctor  there,  too.  But  Nellie's 
face  riveted  his  attention.  She  was  gazing  upon  him 
with  such  a  deep  look  of  love.  And  yet  it  did  not  seem 
altogether  like  Nellie,  and,  when  she  spoke,  it  was  a 
different  voice.  Suddenly  a  strange  sound  fell  upon  his 
ears.    The  room  at  the  Rectory  faded,  and  in  its  stead 


226  THE    FOURTH    WATCH 

there  was  the  rough  barn  floor,  and  the  hunch  of  straw 
on  which  he  was  lying.  For  an  instant  he  gazed  around 
him  in  a  bewildered  manner.  lie  could  not  realize  just 
where  he  was.  A  childish  laugh  caused  him  to  turn 
his  head,  and  there  looking  in  at  him  from  a  small  door 
to  the  left  was  a  little  maiden,  with  curly,  auburn  hair 
and  cheeks  twin  sisters  to  the  rosiest  apples  that  ever 
grew. 

"  Oo  azy  ittle  boy ! "  she  cried,  clapping  her  hands. 
"  Oo  must  det  up.    Turn,  daddy,  tee  azy,  azy  ittle  boy." 

Presently  there  apppeared  at  her  side,  a  large  man, 
holding  a  pail  in  his  left  hand. 

"  What  is  it,  dearie  ?  "  he  asked.  "  What's  all  the 
fun  and  chattering  about  ?  " 

"  Tee,  tee,  azy  boy,"  and  she  pointed  with  a  fat  little 
finger  to  the  corner  of  the  barn  floor. 

By  this  time  Dan  had  leaped  to  his  feet,  and  stood 
confronting  the  man.  He  felt  that  he  was  a  trespasser, 
and  perhaps  he  would  be  punished.  But  as  he  looked 
into  the  big  man's  eyes  he  read  with  the  instinct  of  a 
wild  animal  that  he  had  nothing  to  fear,  for  only 
pity  shone  in  those  clear,  grey  depths. 

"  Did  you  sleep  there  all  night  ?  "  the  man  asked, 
pointing  to  the  straw. 

"  Yes,  sir,"  was  the  reply.  "  I  hope  you're  not 
cross." 

"  I'm  cross,  boy,  to  think  that  you  didn't  come  to 
the  house  and  ask  for  a  bed." 

"  I  didn't  like  to,  sir.  I  didn't  like  to  bother  any- 
body.    But  I  knew  whoever  owned  the  barn  wouldn't 


WHERE    IS    DAN?  227 

mind  if  I  slept  here.  It's  a  comfortable  place,  and  I 
was  tired." 

"  Did  you  have  any  supper  last  night  ?  "  the  man 
asked,  looking  keenly  into  Dan's  face. 

"  Yes,  sir ;  a  piece  of  bread." 

"  What,  nothing  more  ?  " 

"  No.  But  I  had  a  grand  drink  from  that  spring 
back  yonder,  and  with  the  good  sleep  I've  had,  I  think  I 
can  manage  to-day." 

"  Look  here,  boy,  you'll  not  leave  this  place  until 
you  have  your  breakfast.  So  come.  Marion,  you  found 
this  little  stranger,  and  you  must  take  him  to  the 
house." 

But  Dan  drew  back,  as  the  little  maiden  toddled  up 
to  take  him  by  the  hand. 

"  I  can't  go,"  he  stammered.  "  I've  got  no  money, 
and  I  won't  be  a  sponger." 

"  A  what  ?  "  asked  the  man. 

"  A  sponger.  I  hate  a  sponger,  and  so  did  my 
father.  I'll  split  wood  for  my  breakfast  if  you'll  let 
me,  sir,  for  I  am  hungry." 

"  That's  a  bargain,"  said  the  man,  much  pleased  at 
the  spirit  of  the  boy.  "  So  hurry  off  now.  I  haven't 
much  time  to  lose." 

Proudly  the  little  maiden  conducted  her  charge  to 
the  house,  and  told  in  broken  language  about  her  mar- 
vellous find.  Dan  felt  much  at  home  with  Marion's 
mother,  and  during  breakfast  he  told  her  where  he  was 
going. 

"  What !  to  Eodgers  &  Peterson's  camp !  "  exclaimed 


22S  THE    FOURTH    WATCH 

the  big  man  at  the  head  of  the  table.  "  That's  -where 
I'm  going  myself,  and  that's  why  I'm  up  so  early  this 
morning.  I'm  glad  to  hear  of  that,  for  I'll  have  com- 
pany." 

"  But  I  must  split  the  wood,"  Dan  insisted.  "  I 
shall  try  to  earn  my  breakfast,  but  what  about  the 
ride  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I'll  give  you  work  along  the  way,"  laughed  the 
man.    "  You'll  have  plenty  to  do,  so  don't  worry." 

While  the  horses  were  being  harnessed  Dan  vigor- 
ously swung  the  axe  in  the  wood-house.  Perched  upon 
the  door-step  Marion  watched  him  with  admiring  eyes. 
He  knew  that  she  was  looking  at  him,  and  his  bosom 
swelled  with  pride,  ne  was  not  a  sponger,  but  a  man 
working  for  his  breakfast.  At  times  he  stole  a  glance 
at  the  little  figure  sitting  there.  "  How  pretty  she  is," 
he  thought.  "  I  wish  I  had  a  sister  like  her.  lie  longed 
to  stay  there,  to  be  near  the  little  maiden,  and  to  work 
for  the  big,  kind  man.  He  sighed  as  he  laid  down  the 
axe,  and  gazed  at  the  wood  he  had  chopped. 

"  It  ain't  much,"  he  remarked,  as  he  stood  ready  to 
climb  into  the  waggon.     "  Wish  I  had  more  time." 

"  It  will  do,"  responded  the  big  man.  "  I  am  satis- 
fied if  you  arc." 

Dan  had  no  time  to  answer,  for  at  that  instant  a  little 
voice  sounded  forth.  Looking  quickly  around  he  beheld 
Marion  hurrying  towards  him  holding  in  her  hand  a 
small  rose. 

"  ~Mc  div  dis  to  oo,  ittle  boy,"  she  cried.  "  It's  off 
my  own  woes  bus.     Oo  must  teep  it." 


WHEKE    IS    DAN?  229 

Hardly  knowing  what  he  did  Dan  took  the  little 
flower,  and  stood  staring  at  Marion. 

"  Come,  lassie,"  cried  her  father,  catching  her  in  his 
arms  and  giving  her  a  loving  hug  and  a  kiss.  Take 
good  care  of  mother.    We  must  be  off." 

"  Oo  div  me  tiss,  too,"  and  she  lifted  up  her  lips  to 
Dans. 

The  latter's  face  flushed  scarlet,  and  he  trembled. 
Never  in  his  life  had  he  kissed  a  little  girl  like  that. 
What  should  he  do  ?  He  longed  for  the  ground  to  open 
or  something  dreadful  to  happen.  He  would  have  wel- 
comed anything  just  them. 

"  Tiss  me,  ittle  boy,"  urged  Marion.  She  had  him  by 
the  coat  now  with  both  hands,  drawing  him  down  to 
her.  There  was  nothing  for  him  to  do.  He  must  go 
through  the  ordeal.  Suddenly  he  bent  his  head  and 
shut  his  eyes.  His  face  came  close  to  hers ;  he  felt  her 
lips  touch  his  cheek,  and  heard  her  childish  laugh  of 
delight. 

"  Dood  ittle  boy !  "  she  exclaimed.  "  Now  dood-by. 
Don't  lose  my  pitty  fower." 

Too  much  confused  to  say  a  word  Dan  scrambled 
into  the  waggon,  and  soon  the  horses  were  speeding  off 
down  the  lane  to  the  road.  For  some  time  he  sat  bolt 
upright  on  the  seat,  silent  and  thoughtful,  clutching 
in  his  hand  that  tiny  rose.  The  big  man  at  his  side 
asked  no  questions,  but  seemed  intent  solely  upon 
managing  his  horses.  But  not  a  motion  of  the  little  lad 
at  his  side  escaped  his  notice.  He  loved  children,  and 
had  the  rare  gift  of  understanding  them.    A  faint  smile 


230  THE    FOURTH    WATCH 

played  about  bis  moutb  as  from  tbe  corner  of  his  eye  he 
saw  Dan  take  a  piece  of  paper  from  bis  pocket,  shyly 
place  tbe  rose  between  tbe  folds  and  then  return  it  to  its 
former  place.  He  could  not  bear  tbe  boy's  heart 
thumping  bard  beneath  his  jacket,  but  he  understood, 
and  what  more  was  needed  ? 

All  day  long  they  jogged  over  the  road,  stopping  only 
at  noon  to  feed  tbe  horses  and  eat  a  lunch  Marion's 
mother  had  tucked  away  in  the  corner  of  tbe  waggon. 
Dan  found  it  easy  to  talk  to  tbe  big  man  sitting  by  his 
side.  He  told  him  about  his  father's  death,  Parson 
John,  and  the  accident,  to  which  his  companion  listened 
with  much  interest.  But  concerning  the  object  of  his 
visit  to  the  lumber  camp,  Dan  was  silent.  Several  times 
he  was  at  the  point  of  explaining  everything,  but  always 
he  hesitated  and  determined  to  wait. 

"  I  did  not  tell  Xcllie,"  he  said  to  himself,  "  and  why 
should  I  tell  a  stranger  first  ?  " 

The  sun  was  sinking  far  westward  as  they  wound 
their  way  along  a  woodland  road.  Down  to  the  left  the 
water  of  Big  Creek  Brook  raced  and  swirled.  Occa- 
sionally they  caught  glimpses  of  the  rushing  torrent  as 
the  road  dipped  closer  to  the  bank. 

"  We  should  meet  the  drive  ere  long,"  the  big  man 
remarked,  as  he  flicked  the  horses  with  his  whip.  "  I'm 
afraid  the  logs  have  jammed  in  Giant  Gorge,  or  else 
they  would  have  been  here  by  this  time.  It's  a  bad, 
rocky  place,  and  seldom  a  drive  gets  through  without 
trouble." 


WHERE    IS    DAN?  231 

Presently  he  pulled  up  his  horses  before  a  little  log 
shack  standing  to  the  right. 

"  I  shall  leave  the  horses  here  for  the  night,  boy," 
he  said.  "  There's  a  path  down  yonder  to  the  left.  If 
you're  in  a  hurry  you  can  take  that.  It  will  lead  to  the 
stream,  and  you  can  follow  it  up  until  you  meet  the  men. 
If  they  ask  any  questions  tell  them  you  came  with  Big 
Sam,  and  everything  will  be  all  right.  Take  care  and 
don't  fall  into  the  water." 

Dan  was  only  too  anxious  to  be  on  foot.  He  was 
cramped  from  sitting  so  long  in  the  waggon.  Moreover, 
he  was  restless  to  get  to  the  end  of  his  journey,  and 
accomplish  his  business.  Thanking  the  big  man,  he 
leaped  from  the  waggon  and  was  soon  speeding  down 
the  path,  and  in  a  few  minutes  reached  the  edge  of  the 
brook,  roaring  and  foaming  between  its  steep  banks. 
Looking  up-stream  he  could  see  no  sign  of  the  drive, 
but  the  well-beaten  path  was  there,  and  along  this  he 
hurried.  Ere  long  he  reached  a  bend  in  the  stream 
and  as  he  rounded  this,  and  lifted  up  his  eyes,  a  wild, 
terrible  scene  was  presented  to  view.  Away  to  the 
right  he  beheld  Giant  Gorge,  a  narrow  gash  in  the  rocks, 
through  which  the  waters  were  seething  and  boiling 
in  wildest  commotion.  On  the  hither  side  a  flood  of 
logs  was  sweeping  and  tearing  down,  like  a  mighty 
breastwork  suddenly  loosened.  Dan  started  back  in 
terror  at  the  sight,  and  was  about  to  spring  up  the  bank 
to  a  place  of  safety,  when  his  eyes  rested  upon  the  form 
of  a  man  out  in  the  midst  of  that  rush  of  destruction, 
vainly  trying  to  free  himself  from  the  watery  chasm 


232  THE    FOURTH    WATCH 

which  had  suddenly  yawned  beneath  his  feet.  Dan's 
heart  beat  wildly  at  the  sight  But  only  for  an  instant 
did  he  hesitate.  Then  forward  he  leaped  like  a  grey- 
hound. Forgotten  was  the  rushing  torrent,  and  his 
own  danger.  lie  thought  only  of  that  frantically  cling- 
ing man.  He  reached  the  edge  of  the  stream,  leaped 
upon  the  nearest  logs,  and,  with  the  agility  of  a  wild- 
cat, threaded  his  way  through  that  terrible  labyrinth 
of  grinding,  crashing,  heaving  monsters. 


CHAPTER  XXIV 
THE  RUSH  OF  DOOM 

TO  bring  a  drive  of  logs  down  Big  Creek  Brook  re- 
quired skill,  patience  and  courage.  It  was  a 
nasty,  crooked  stream,  filled  with  sunken  rocks, 
bad  bends  and  stretches  of  shallow  water.  Rodgers  & 
Peterson  had  their  logs  in  the  stream  early,  and  every- 
thing pointed  to  a  successful  season's  work,  Eor  awhile 
all  went  well,  but  then  mishap  after  mishap  held  them 
back.  The  logs  jammed  in  several  places,  and  days 
were  lost  in  getting  them  cleared.  Then  they  grounded 
upon  bars  and  shoals,  which  caused  a  great  delay.  But 
the  most  serious  of  all  was  the  hold-up  in  Giant  Gorge. 
This  was  the  most  dreaded  spot  in  the  whole  stream, 
and  seldom  had  a  drive  been  brought  through  without 
some  disaster.  Much  blasting  had  been  done,  and  a 
number  of  obstacles  blown  away.  But  for  all  that  there 
were  rocks  which  defied  the  skill  of  man  to  remove. 
Two  flinty  walls  reared  their  frowning  sides  for  several 
rods  along  the  brook.  Between  these  an  immense 
boulder  lifted  its  head,  around  which  the  waters  in- 
cessantly swirled.  But  when  the  stream  was  swollen 
high  enough  the  logs  would  clear  this  obstacle  at  a 
bound,  like  chargers  leaping  a  fence,  and  plunge  into 
the  whirling  eddies  below. 

233 


234  THE    FOURTH    WATCH 

When  the  "  R  &  P  "  drive,  'the  name  by  which  it  was 
commonly  known,  reached  Giant  Gorge,  it  was  con- 
fidently believed  that  there  was  enough  water  to  carry 
it  safely  through.  But  such  reckoning  was  wrong.  As 
the  logs  came  sweeping  down  and  were  sucked  into  the 
Gorge  they  began  to  crowd,  and,  instead  of  rushing 
through  loose  and  free,  they  jammed  against  the  rocky 
walls,  while  a  huge  monster  became  wedged  on  the 
sunken  boulder,  and,  acting  as  a  key  log,  held  in  check 
the  whole  drive.  Then  began  a  wild  scene,  which  once 
beheld  can  never  be  forgotten.  Stopped  in  their  mad 
career,  the  logs  presented  the  spectacle  of  unrestrained 
passion.  The  mighty,  heaving,  twisting  mass  groaned, 
pressed  and  writhed  for  freedom,  but  with  the  awful 
grip  of  death  the  sturdy  key  log  held  firm.  Steadily 
the  jam  increased  in  size,  and  whiter  threw  the  foam, 
as  one  by  one  those  giant  logs  swept  crashing  down,  to 
be  wedged  amidst  their  companions  as  if  driven  by  the 
sledge  of  Thor. 

The  drivers  stood  upon  the  bank  and  watched  the  log3 
piling  higher  and  higher.  Well  did  they  know  what  the 
delay  might  mean  to  Rodgers  &  Peterson.  Much  de- 
pended upon  that  drive  coming  out,  and  for  it  to  be  held 
up  during  summer  meant  almost  ruin  to  the  firm. 
They  were  a  hardy  body  of  men  who  stood  there  late 
that  afternoon  discussing  the  matter.  They  were  great 
workmen  these,  well  versed  in  woodland  lore.  All 
winter  long  had  they  taken  their  part  in  that  big  lumber 
operation,  and,  now  that  the  work  was  almost  completed, 
it  was  certainly  aggravating  to  be  thus  checked. 


THE    RUSH    OF    DOOM  235 

!As  the  men  talked,  and  several  lighted  their  pipes, 
one  strapping  fellow  stood  on  the  bank,  his  eyes  fixed 
upon  that  immovable  key  log.  During  the  whole  winter 
Tony  Stickles  had  been  the  butt  as  well  as  the  curiosity 
of  the  men.  His  long,  lank  figure  was  the  source  of 
much  ridicule,  while  his  remarks,  which  were  always 
slow  and  few,  were  generally  greeted  with  merriment. 
From  the  first  night  in  camp  he  had  been  a  marked  man. 
Ere  he  threw  himself  into  the  rude  bunk  he  had  knelt 
down  on  the  floor  in  the  presence  of  them  all,  and  said 
his  evening  prayer.  A  boot  had  been  thrown  at  his 
head,  and  a  laugh  had  gone  about  the  room.  Tony  had 
risen  from  his  knees,  and  with  a  flushed  face  sought 
his  couch,  surprised  at  the  action  on  the  part  of  these 
men.  But  one  middle-aged  man  of  great  stature  and 
strength  had  watched  it  all.  He  sat  quietly  smoking 
for  several  minutes  after  the  laughter  had  subsided. 

"  Boys,"  he  said  at  length,  taking  his  pipe  from  his 
mouth,  "  I'm  real  sorry  at  what  ye've  done  to-night. 
I've  six  little  ones  of  me  own,  an'  I  hope  to  God  when 
they  grow  up  they'll  not  be  afeered  to  kneel  down  an' 
do  as  yon  lad  has  done  to-night.  I'm  not  a  good  man 
meself,  more's  the  pity.  But  that  boy's  had  a  good 
mother's  teachin'.  I  honour  her  an'  'im.  An'  let  me 
tell  ye  this,  men,  if  I  ketch  ye  doin'  agin  what  ye  did 
to-night,  ye'll  have  to  reckon  with  me.  So  jist  try  it  on, 
an'  I  won't  give  a  second  warnin'." 

Jake  Purdy  calmly  resumed  his  smoking,  and  the 
men  looked  at  one  another  in  silence.  They  knew  very 
Well  from  certain  past  unpleasant  experiences  what  it 


23G  THE    FOURTH    WATCH 

meant  to  cross  this  quiet,  plain-spoken  man.  He  said 
little,  and  never  entered  into  a  quarrel  without  some 
reason.  But  when  he  did  there  was  cause  for  the  stout- 
est heart  to  quake. 

Tony  listened  to  it  all  concealed  away  in  his  bunk. 
His  heart  thumped  beneath  his  rough  shirt,  and  he 
wished  to  thank  Jake  for  taking  his  part.  But  strive 
as  he  might  he  never  had  the  opportunity.  The  big 
woodsman  never  seemed  to  notice  him.  Days  passed 
into  weeks,  and  still  Tony  did  not  utter  the  gratitude 
which  was  lying  in  his  heart.  To  him  Jake  was  more 
than  ordinary — a  hero.  He  watched  him  as  he 
chopped,  and  drank  in  greedily  the  few  words  he  let  fall 
from  time  to  time  in  the  camp. 

"  Boys,  that  drive  must  go  through." 

It  was  the  boss  who  spoke,  as  he  jerked  his  thumb 
towards  the  Gorge.  "  Yes,  it's  got  to  go  through  to- 
night, or  it's  all  up.  The  water's  falling  off  fast,  and 
if  we  wait  till  to-morrow,  we'll  wait  till  next  fall.  I've 
always  said  there  should  be  a  dam  at  the  head  of  the 
Gorge,  and  I  say  it  now  more  emphatically  than  ever. 
But  as  it  is  not  there,  it's  up  to  us  to  get  this  d — n 
thing  through  as  best  we  can.  I've  never  been  stuck 
yet  in  bringing  out  a  drive,  and  I  hope  this  won't  be 
the  first  time." 

"  But  what's  your  plan  ?  "  asked  one.  "  Hadn't  ye 
better  pick  one  of  us  to  go  down  into  that  hell-hole,  an' 
cut  that  key  log  ?  " 

"  Xo,  that  isn't  my  plan,"  and  the  boss  scratched  the 
back  of  his  head.     "  I'm  not  going  to  be  responsible 


THE    RUSH    OF    DOOM  237 

for  the  carcase  of  any  man.  If  I  say  to  one  '  Go/  and 
he  goes  and  gets  pinched,  I'll  worry  about  it  to  my 
dying  day.  I'd  rather  go  myself  first.  But  if  we  draw 
for  it,  then  it's  off  my  shoulders,  and  I  stand  the  same 
chance  as  the  rest  of  ye.  I  believe  that  whatever  is  to  be 
will  be,  and  the  right  man  to  go  down  there  will  be 
chosen.    Do  you  agree  to  that,  boys  ?  " 

"  Ay,  ay,"  came  the  response.  "  Go  ahead,  Tim. 
"We'll  stand  by  the  agreement." 

Some  brown  paper  was  accordingly  found,  and  cut 
with  a  big  jack-knife  into  twenty  pieces,  according  to 
the  number  of  the  men.  On  one  of  these  a  large  X  was 
marked  with  a  blue  lead-pencil,,  which  one  of  the  men 
had  in  his  pocket.  A  tin  lunch  can  was  next  produced, 
and  into  this  the  pieces  of  paper  were  all  thrown  and 
the  cover  shut  down  tight.  When  the  can  had  been 
thoroughly  shaken,  the  men  came  up  one  by  one,  shut 
their  eyes,  put  in  their  hands  and  drew  forth  a  slip. 
A  tense  silence  reigned  during  this  performance,  and 
the  hearts  of  these  sturdy  men  beat  fast  as  each 
glanced  at  his  paper  to  see  what  it  contained.  Jake 
Purdy  was  one  of  the  last  to  approach,  and,  thrusting 
in  a  huge,  hairy  hand,  jerked  forth  his  piece,  and  as  he 
looked  upon  it  his  face  turned  pale,  though  he  said  not 
a  word  as  he  held  up  the  slip  for  all  to  see  the  fatal  X 
scrawled  upon  it.  At  that  instant  Tony  Stickles 
started  forward,  and  confronted  Jake.  His  eyes  were 
wide  with  excitement,  and  his  long,  lank  figure  was 
drawn  up  to  its  full  height. 

"  You  mustn't  go !  "  he  cried.     "  ~Ro,  no !     You've 


238  THE    FOURTH    WATCH 

got  six  little  ones  at  home,  an'  a  wife  who  wants  ye. 
I'll  go  in  ycr  place." 

Big  Jake  looked  at  Tony  in  surprise,  and  into  his 
strong,  determined  face  came  an  expression  of  tender- 
ness which  the  men  had  never  seen  hefore. 

"  No,  lad,"  he  replied,  "  it  can't  be.  The  lot's  fallen 
to  me,  an'  I'm  the  one  to  do  it  I  thank  ye  kindly  all 
the  same." 

Tony  waited  to  hear  no  more.  TTis  eyes  glanced  upon 
an  axe  lying  near.  Springing  towards  this  he  seized  it, 
and  before  a  restraining  hand  could  be  laid  upon  him 
he  bounded  towards  the  Gorge,  sprang  down  the  bank 
and  leaped  upon  the  logs. 

Big  Jake  rushed  after  him,  calling  and  imploring 
him  to  come  back.  But  his  cries  were  unheeded.  Tony 
was  now  belween  the  rocky  walls,  working  his  way  over 
those  tossed  and  twisted  monsters,  deaf  to  all  entreaties 
from  the  shore. 

"  Come  back,  Jake !  "  roared  the  men  from  behind. 
"  It's  no  use  for  you  to  go  now.  lie's  taken  the  matter 
into  his  own  hands,  an'  one's  enough." 

Reluctantly  he  obeyed,  and  stood  with  the  rest  watch- 
ing with  breathless  interest  to  see  what  would  happen. 

Tony  had  now  reached  the  front  of  the  jam,  and  was 
carefully  picking  his  way  to  the  gripping  key  log. 
Balancing  himself  as  well  as  he  could  he  chose  a  spot 
where  the  strain  was  the  greatest.  Then  the  axe 
cleaved  the  air,  the  keen  blade  bit  the  wood,  and  the 
whirling  chips  played  about  his  head.  Deeper  and 
deeper  the  steel  ate  into  the  side  of  the  giant  spruce. 


THE    RUSH    OF    DOOM  239 

Suddenly  a  report  like  a  cannon  split  the  air,  the  axe 
was  hurled  like  a  rocket  out  into  midstream  to  sink 
with  a  splash  into  the  foaming  eddies.  Tony  turned, 
leaped  like  lightning  back  upon  the  main  body  of  logs, 
and  started  for  the  shore.  But  he  was  too  late.  With  a 
roar  of  pent-up  wrath  the  mighty  drive  moved  forward. 
Down  through  the  Gorge  it  surged,  gaining  in  speed 
every  instant  from  the  terrible  pressure  behind.  And 
down  with  it  went  Tony,  enwrapped  with  foam  and 
spray.  Nobly  he  kept  his  feet.  He  leaped  from  one 
log  to  another.  He  dodged  monster  after  monster, 
which  rose  on  end  and  threatened  to  strike  him  down. 
It  was  a  wild  race  with  death.  Should  he  miss  his  foot- 
ing or  lose  his  head  only  for  an  instant  he  would  have 
been  ground  to  pieces  in  that  rush  of  doom.  The  watch- 
ing men  stood  as  if  transfixed  to  the  spot.  They  saw 
him  speeding  onward  and  drawing  nearer  to  the  shore 
at  the  sharp  bend  in  the  stream.  It  looked  as  if  he 
would  gain  the  bank,  and  a  cheer  of  encouragement  rang 
out  over  the  waters.  But  the  words  had  scarcely  died 
upon  their  lips  ere  they  beheld  the  logs  part  asunder 
right  beneath  Tony's  feet,  and  with  a  wild  cry  he 
plunged  into  the  rushing  current  below.  Frantically  he 
clutched  at  the  nearest  logs,  and  endeavoured  to  pull 
himself  up  from  that  watery  grave.  At  times  he  man- 
aged to  draw  himself  part  way  out,  but  the  swirling 
waters  sucked  him  down.  It  needed  only  a  little  help, 
but  the  logs  were  wet  and  slippery,  and  there  was 
nothing  on  which  to  obtain  a  firm  grip.  His  body  was 
becoming  numb  from  the  icy  waters,  and  at  each  ter- 


240  THE    FOURTH    WATCH 

rible  struggle  he  felt  himself  growing  weaker.  He 
knew  he  could  last  but  little  longer  in  such  a  position. 
Was  he  to  drown  there?  His  thoughts  flashed  to  his 
little  home  in  Glendow.  Were  they  thinking  of  him? 
he  wondered.  What  would  his  mother  say  when  they 
carried  her  the  news  ?  Oh,  if  he  could  only  feel  her 
strong  hand  in  his  now,  how  soon  he  would  be  lifted 
from  that  awful  place.  Suddenly  there  came  into  his 
mind  her  parting  words  when  he  had  left  home. 

"  Tony,"  she  had  said,  "  ye  may  be  often  in  danger 
out  thar  in  the  woods.  But  remember  what  the  good 
Lord  said,  '  Call  upon  me  in  the  day  of  trouble  an'  I 
will  deliver  ye.'  " 

And  there  in  the  midst  of  that  swirling  death  ho 
lifted  up  his  voice.  "  Oh,  Lord !  "  he  cried,  "  help  me ! 
save  me !  " 

And  even  as  he  prayed,  and  made  one  more  mighty 
struggle,  a  small  hand  reached  out  and  grasped  his.  It 
was  all  that  was  needed.  He  felt  the  watery  grip 
loosen,  and  numbed  to  the  bone  he  sprawled  his  full 
length  across  a  big  log  at  Dan's  feet.  And  not  a 
moment  too  soon  had  that  helping  hand  been  stretched 
forth,  for  glancing  back  he  saw  the  logs  had  closed 
again,  grinding  and  tearing  as  before.  They  had  struck 
a  wild  eddy  and  all  was  confusion.  He  staggered  to 
his  feet  at  the  shock  and  barely  escaped  a  huge  log 
which  suddenly  shot  up  from  below.  But  Dan  was 
not  so  fortunate,  for  a  glancing  blow  sent  him  reeling 
back,  a  helpless,  pathetic  little  figure.  Tony  was  all 
alert  now.     Leaping  forward  he  caught  the  unconscious 


THE    EUSH    OF    DOOM  241 

boy  in  his  arms,  and  started  for  the  shore.  Then  hegan 
a  fierce,  determined  fight,  a  hand-to-hand  encounter  with 
cold,  relentless  death.  Step  by  step  Tony  staggered  for- 
ward, bafned  here,  retreating  a  few  paces  there,  but 
steadily  gaining.  At  first  he  did  not  mind  Dan's  weight, 
but  after  a  few  minutes  the  burden  began  to  tell. 
He  was  weak  anyway  from  the  terrible  strain  and  ex- 
perience through  which  he  had  recently  passed.  Could 
he  hold  out  until  he  reached  the  shore  ?  His  face  was 
drawn  and  tense ;  his  eyes  stared  wildly  upon  those 
rolling,  moving,  writhing  things  beneath  his  feet.  They 
seemed  like  thousands  of  serpents  trying  to  capture  him 
as  he  leaped  from  one  to  the  other.  His  brain  reeled,^ 
he  was  falling,  but  at  that  moment  he  felt  strong  arm.9 
about  him.  His  burden  was  snatched  away.  He  heard 
voices,  friendly,  encouraging  and  cheering,  and  then 
oblivion. 

When  Tony  opened  his  eyes  he  found  himself  lying 
upon  the  shore  with  several  men  standing  near,  watch- 
ing him  with  keen  interest.  There  was  no  merriment 
or  ridicule  in  their  faces  now,  but  only  anxiety  and 
sympathy.  The  hearts  of  these  rough  men  had  been 
touched  by  what  they  had  recently  witnessed.  Most 
of  them  were  with  the  drive,  but  a  few  had  been  told 
off  to  look  after  the  two  lads. 

"  Where's  that  boy  ?  "  asked  Tony  as  the  terrible 
scene  flashed  back  into  his  mind. 

"  Over  there,"  replied  one,  jerking  his  thumb  to  the 
left. 

"  Is  he  all  right  ?  "  was  Tony's  next  query. 


242  THE    FOURTH    WATCH 

"  Can't  say.     He's  not  come  to  yet." 

At  this  Tony  struggled  to  his  feet,  and  walked 
slowly  over  to  where  Dan  was  lying,  unconscious  still, 
and  breathing  hard. 

"  Who  is  he  ?  "Where  did  he  come  from  ?  "  were  the 
questions  which  these  men  asked  one  another  as  they 
rubbed  Dan's  body,  and  bathed  his  forehead. 

Something  white  sticking  from  a  little  pocket  in  Dan's 
coat  caught  Tony's  eye.  Reaching  down  he  drew  it 
forth,  and  as  he  did  so  the  little  crushed  rose  dropped  to 
the  ground.  One  of  the  men  picked  it  up  and  holding 
it  in  his  big,  rough  hand  looked  curiously  upon  it.  But 
Tony  did  not  notice  the  flower,  for  his  eyes  were  fixed 
upon  the  paper  on  which  he  saw  his  own  name.  Slowly 
and  with  difficulty  he  spelled  out  the  queer  letters 
scrawled  there. 

"  deR  toXy,"  so  the  missive  began.  "  cTJm  hoM  qiK 
they  say  paRson  John  sTol  ol  bilees  goLD  i  tHINK 
yoU  nO  weR  IT  ISS 

yeR  friEND  TruLEE 

Dan." 

Tony  held  the  letter  in  his  hand  for  some  minutes 
and  stared  at  those  quaint  wTords.  He  had  heard  from 
his  mother  of  the  death  of  old  Billy  and  the  burning  of 
his  house.  But  of  the  trouble  later  he  knew  nothing, 
for  letters  from  home  had  been  few.  Now  a  new  light 
dawned  upon  his  mind.  Something  must  be  wrong,  and 
this  lad  had  come  all  the  way  for  him !  But  wTho  was 
Dan  ?    He  had  never  seen  nor  heard  of  him  before. 


THE    RUSH    OF    DOOM  243 

As  he  stood  there  Big  Sam  drew  near.  He  started 
with  surprise  as  he  saw  the  boy  lying  on  the  ground, 
his  little  pale  face  resting  upon  a  rough  coat. 

"  What !  what's  this  ?  "  he  exclaimed.  "  Why,  this  is 
the  boy  who  came  with  me  to-day !  Has  he  fallen  into 
the  stream  ?     I  warned  him  to  be  careful." 

"  Poor  boy !  poor  boy !  "  he  remarked  when  the  story 
of  the  brave  deed  had  been  related.  "  Do  you  think 
he's  badly  hurt  ?  " 

"  Can't  say,"  replied  one.  "  But  do  ye  know  who 
he  is  ? " 

"  Yes,"  and  Big  Sam  in  a  few  words  told  all  that  he 
knew. 

"  We  must  get  him  away  from  this  as  soon  as  pos- 
sible," said  the  former  speaker.  "  He  needs  the  doctor. 
Where  had  we  better  take  him  ?  " 

"  Look  here,  boys,"  said  Sam  after  a  moment's 
thought.  "  As  soon  as  those  horses  have  munched  their 
oats  they  shall  head  for  home.  I'll  take  the  boy  with 
me,  and  my  wife  will  care  for  him.  The  doctor  lives 
near." 

Tony  stood  by  listening  to  it  all  with  his  eyes  fixed 
intently  upon  Dan's  face,  while  his  hand  still  clutched 
the  letter.  He  was  weak,  and  ready  to  drop.  But  a 
burning  desire  throbbed  within  his  breast.  He  partly 
realized  the  situation  at  Glendow.  There  was  trouble, 
deep,  serious  trouble,  and  he  was  needed. 


CHAPTER  XXV 

BENEATH  THE  ASHES 

FAR  away  in  the  West  the  sun  was  sinking  low  as 
Stephen  Frenelle  stood  on  the  shore  looking  out 
over  his  newly  rafted  logs.  Not  a  ripple  dis- 
turbed the  surface  of  the  noble  river,  or  the  waters  of 
the  little  creek  lying  between  its  semi-wooded  banks. 
It  was  a  balmy  spring  evening  when  the  whole  world 
seemed  at  peace.  On  a  night  such  as  this  new  longings 
and  aspirations  swell  the  heart,  and  the  blood  tingles 
joyfully  through  the  body.  Stephen  had  remained  after 
the  rest  of  the  men  had  gone  home.  He  wished  to 
examine  the  logs  to  see  that  the  work  was  well  done. 
As  he  now  stood  on  the  shore  his  thoughts  were  not 
upon  the  glassy  river  or  Nature's  loveliness.  His  mind 
was  disturbed.  All  through  the  winter  he  had  been 
looking  forward  to  the  time  when  the  logs  would  be 
floating  there  secured  by  their  wooden  bonds.  He  had 
planned  to  have  Nellie  come  to  see  the  completion  of  his 
work.  He  knew  how  she  would  rejoice  at  what  he  had 
accomplished,  and  in  his  mind  he  had  heard  her  words 
of  congratulation.  But  now  all  was  changed.  The 
work  was  done,  but  Nellie  was  not  there  to  behold  his 
victory.  How  lonely  seemed  the  parish  since  her  de- 
parture.    He  had  thrown  himself  with  great  energy  into 

244 


BENEATH    THE    ASHES  245 

his  task,  and  the  days  had  sped  by.  But,  try  as  he 
might,  he  could  not  free  himself  from  the  weight  which 
pressed  upon  his  heart.  Everything  in  the  parish  moved 
on  as  before.  The  new  clergyman  came,  and  service- 
had  been  held  in  the  church  as  usual.  Many  spoke 
favourably  of  the  new  man.  He  was  young,  full  of 
spirit,  and  a  clear,  forcible  speaker.  But  to  Stephen  it: 
was  not  the  same  as  formerly.  He  missed  the  white- 
haired,  venerable  man  in  his  accustomed  place.  The 
moment  he  entered  the  church  his  eyes  sought  the  seat 
where  Nellie  always  sat.  It  was  empty.  That  form 
so  dear  to  him  was  not  there.  He  saw  her  Prayer  Book 
and  Hymn  Book  in  the  little  rack,  and  a  lump  came 
into  his  throat,  as  he  knew  they  would  not  be 
used. 

He  thought  of  these  things,  standing  there  on  the 
shore.  His  tall,  manly  figure  was  drawn  to  its  full 
height.  He  gazed  straight  before.  It  was  a  far-off 
vision  he  beheld,  and  suddenly  there  came  into  his  heart 
a  peace  such  as  he  had  not  known  since  she  left.  She 
seemed  to  be  very  near,  standing  right  by  his  side.  He' 
saw  her  face,  beheld  her  eyes  looking  into  his,  and 
heard  her  voice  bidding  him  to  be  of  good  cheer,  and  to 
look  up. 

A  sound  near  by  startled  him.  He  glanced  quickly 
around,  half  expecting  to  see  Nellie  standing  there. 
Instead,  however,  he  beheld  the  tall,  lank  form  of  Tony 
Stickles  approaching.  His  face  was  gaunt,  his  step 
weak  and  slow.  But  Stephen  did  not  notice  these,  so 
surprised  was  he  to  see  him. 


24G  THE    FOURTH    WATCH 

''Tony!"  he  exclaimed,  reaching  out  his  hand, 
"  where  did  you  drop  from  ?  I  thought  you  were  on 
the  big  drive." 

"  So  I  was,  Steve,"  Tony  replied,  taking  a  seat  upon 
a  large  boulder. 

"  Didn't  get  fired,  eh  ?  " 

To  this  Tony  made  no  response.  He  looked  thought- 
fully before  him  for  a  while. 

"  Say,  Steve,"  he  at  length  remarked.  "  How's 
Parson  John  ?  " 

"  He's  gone,  Tony.     Driven  from  Glendow." 

"  What !  "  and  Tony  sprang  to  his  feet  in  excite- 
ment.    "  When  did  he  leave  ?  " 

"  Last  week." 

"Then  I'm  too  late!  I  was  afraid  of  it!  But  I 
came  fast — I  ran  sometimes;  but  it  was  no  use.  Is  he 
in  the  lockup  ?  " 

"  In  the  lockup !  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  and  Stephen 
stared  at  him  in  amazement. 

From  the  depth  of  a  capacious  pocket  Tony  brought 
forth  Dan's  soiled  letter,  and  held  it  up. 

"  Read  that,"  he  said.     "  It's  all  I  know." 

Quickly  Stephen  scanned  the  quaint  words,  drinking 
in  almost  intuitively  the  meaning  of  it  all. 

"  Did  Dan  give  you  this  ?  "  he  demanded. 

"  Yes." 

"  And  where  is  the  boy  now  ?  " 

Tony's  eyes  dropped  at  the  question,  and  he  did  not 
answer. 

"  Is  anything  wrong  ?  "  Stephen  insisted. 


BENEATH    THE    ASHES  247 

"  Yes,  I'm  afraid  so.  But  set  down  close,  Steve. 
I've  somethin'  great  to  tell  ye." 

And  sitting  there  in  the  dusk  of  even  Tony  poured 
into  his  companion's  ears  the  story  of  that  terrible  scene 
in  Giant  Gorge,  and  of  Dan's  brave  deed. 

Stephen  listened  spell-bound  to  the  tale.  The  mean- 
ing of  Dan's  departure  was  all  clear  now.  "While  people 
had  been  blaming  the  lad  as  an  ungrateful  runaway  he 
had  fared  forth  in  loving  service  on  behalf  of  his 
guardians.  A  mistiness  blurred  Stephen's  eyes  as  Tony 
paused. 

"  Where  is  Dan  now  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  At  Big  Sam's  house.  We  brought  'ini  down  on  the 
waggon,  an'  I  helped  carry  'im  in." 

"  WTho  is  Big  Sam  \  " 

"  Oh,  he's  the  teamster.  The  booms  are  near  his  place 
whar  the  raftin'  will  be  done.  Sam  hauls  the  stuff  fer 
the  gang." 

"  And  you  don't  know  how  badly  Dan  is  hurt  ?  " 

"  No,  I  came  away  at  once.  I  wanted  to  help  the  old 
parson.     An'  say,  Steve,  did  they  find  the  gold  ?  " 

"  Find  it  ?  No.  And  I  don't  think  they  will  now. 
It's  a  great  mystery." 

"  An'  they  say  the  parson  took  it  ?  " 

"  Yes,  some  do." 

"  An'  didn't  they  find  the  iron  box  ?  " 

"  No." 

"  Did  they  look  beneath  the  ashes  ?  " 

"  They  searched  every  nook  and  corner,  and  even 
sifted  the  ashes,  but  could  find  nothing." 


243  THE    FOURTH    WATCH 

"  An'  didn't  Billy  say  nuthin'  ?  " 

"  Xo,  he  was  too  weak.  He  tried  to  speak  after  the 
parson  had  carried  him  out,  but  no  one  could  understand 
him." 

Tony  did  not  speak  for  a  while,  but  remained  lost 
in  thought. 

"  Steve,"  he  at  length  remarked.  "  I'd  like  to  go  to 
that  old  place.     Will  ye  go  with  me?  " 

"What!  to-night?" 

"  Yes,  right  away." 

"  It  will  be  dark  there  now,  Tony.  Why  not  wait 
until  morning? " 

"  ISTo,  no.  I  must  go  to-night.  We  kin  git  a  lantern, 
an'  I  want  a  shovel,  too.    Will  ye  come  ?  " 

"  Yes,  if  you  want  me,"  was  Stephen's  reluctant 
reply.  "  But  you  might  as  well  save  yourself  the 
trouble.  The  place  has  been  so  thoroughly  searched  by 
daylight  that  I  don't  see  we  can  do  much  at  night. 
Anyway,  I  shall  go  with  you." 

Together  they  moved  on  their  way  up  the  road, 
Stephen  carrying  his  peevy  upon  his  shoulder.  As  they 
came  to  the  store  he  stopped. 

"  Wait  here,  Tony,"  he  said,  "  till  I  run  in  and  get 
the  mail.     I  shall  be  only  a  minute." 

Entering  the  building  he  found  Farrington  sitting 
behind  the  counter  writing.  iTe  looked  up  as  Stephen 
entered,  and  laid  down  his  pen.  He  was  affable  to  all 
now,  for  election  day  was  but  a  week  off,  and  he  needed 
^very  vote. 


BENEATH    THE    ASHES  249 

"  Raftin'  all  done,  Steve  ? "  he  asked  as  lie  handed 
out  the  mail. 

"  Yes,  all  finished,"  was  the  reply. 

"Ye'll  be  to  the  p'litical  meetin'  to-night,  Steve, 
v/on't  ye  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  had  forgotten  all  about  it." 

"  But  ye  must  come.  I  want  ye  to  hear  what  I  hev 
to  say.  Gadsby'll  be  thar,  an'  I've  got  a  dose  fer  'im 
which  he  won't  soon  fergit.  I'll  show  'im  a  thing  or 
two,  an'  the  people'll  learn  that  they  need  a  real,  live 
practical  man  for  councillor.  Ye  must  certainly 
come." 

"  I'm  not  sure  that  I  can  come,"  Stephen  replied. 
"  I  have  an  engagement  to-night.  I  may  be  there, 
however,  if  I  can  get  through  in  time.  But  I  must  be 
off  now;  Tony's  waiting  for  me." 

At  these  last  words  Farrington  started,  and  an  ex- 
pression of  concern  swept  over  his  face.  He  leaned 
anxiously  forward  and  looked  intently  at  Stephen. 

"  Did  ye  say  that  Tony  Stickles  is  out  thar  \  " 

"  Yes.     He  has  just  arrived." 

"  Why,  w — what's  he  back  so  soon  fer  ?  " 

"  Special  business,  so  he  tells  me.    But  I  must  be  off." 

Stephen  noted  Farrington's  remarkable  interest  in 
Tony's  return,  and  wondered  what  it  meant.  He  had 
no  mind  to  tell  him  about  Dan,  for  he  preferred  to  have 
as  few  words  as  possible  with  this  man  who  was  such  a 
thorn  in  the  flesh.  He  left  Farrington  standing  in  the 
door  and  proceeded  with  Tony  up  the  road.  As  they 
moved  along  he  noticed  how  his  companion  lagged  be- 


250  THE    FOURTII    WATCH 

hind.  Usually  he  was  such  a  rapid  walker,  and  this 
slowness  was  a  surprise  to  Stephen. 

"  Are  you  not  well,  Tony  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  I'm  all  right,"  was  the  reply.  "  I've  had  a  long 
walk  to-day." 

"  Since  when  ?  " 

"  Daybreak." 

"  And  did  you  rest  ?  " 

"  No." 

u  Look  here,"  and  Stephen  faced  sharply  about. 
<e  TIave  you  had  anything  to  eat  to-day  ?  " 

Tony's  face  flushed,  and  he  gave  a  slight,  evasive 
laugh.     But  Stephen  was  not  to  be  put  off. 

"  No,  that  won't  do.  I  want  to  know.  Have  you 
been  walking  all  day  without  any  food  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  didn't  mind,  Steve.  I  was  in  a  hurry  to  get 
home.     Besides  I " 

"  Yes,  I  know,"  interrupted  Stephen.  "  You  didn't 
have  your  pay,  and  were  too  proud  to  beg.  Ob,  you're 
a  great  one.  But  you  shall  have  supper  with  me  at 
once  before  you  go  digging  among  those  ashes." 

For  a  while  Tony  was  stubborn,  but  in  the  end 
Stephen  led  him  off  in  triumph.  Supper  was  ready, 
and  Mrs.  Frenelle  gave  the  visitor  a  hearty  welcome, 
and  in  his  own  quaint  way  he  told  of  his  work  in  the 
woods,  and  his  experience  on  the  drive. 

"  I  feel  like  a  new  man,"  he  said,  rising  from  the 
table.  "  I  was  about  tuckered  out.  Now  I'm  ready  fer 
that  bizness  up  yon.  Guess  we'll  turn  up  somethin'  to- 
night, or  my  name  ain't  Tony  Stickles." 


BENEATH    THE    ASHES  251 

It  was  quite  dark  by  the  time  they  reached  the  ruins 
of  the  old  house.  The  lantern  threw  its  fitful  light  over 
the  charred  sticks  and  blackened  stones. 

"  My !  this  is  a  scary  place !  "  Tony  exclaimed  as  he 
glanced  around.  "  Poor  old  Billy  was  good  to  me,  an' 
many  a  square  meal  I've  had  here.  Now  let's  begin 
operations." 

The  wreck  of  the  old-fashioned  chimney  stood  out 
gaunt  and  desolate,  while  the  large  fire-place  was  filled 
with  sticks  and  stones.  These  Tony  began  to  clear 
away,  tossing  them  far  from  the  foundation.  Placing 
the  lantern  in  a  secure  position,  Stephen  assisted  him 
in  his  task.  Why  he  did  so  he  could  not  tell,  but  there 
was  something  so  sure  and  masterful  about  Tony's 
words  and  actions  that  he  felt  compelled  to  do  some- 
thing. 

"  Now  fer  the  shovel,  Steve.  We'll  soon  see  what's 
here,"  and  Tony  began  to  dig  up  ashes  and  earth  in  a 
lively  manner.  "  I  think  this  is  the  place.  Yes,  right 
down  under  the  big  hearth-stone,  a  little  to  the  right. 
He  told  me  about  it  time  an'  time  agin.  Poor  Billy! 
Poor  Billy !  Ye  never  thought  it  'ud  come  to 
this." 

Stephen  was  all  attention  now.  He  watched  Tony, 
digging  and  talking,  uncertain  whether  the  lad  was 
really  in  his  right  mind.  Had  the  fearful  experience  in 
Giant  Gorge  turned  his  brain?  he  wondered.  He  had 
read  of  such  things.  There  was  something  uncanny 
about  the  way  Tony  talked  to  himself,  and,  brave  though 
he  was,  a  strange  feeling  crept  through  Stephen's  body, 


252  THE    FOURTH    WATCH 

making  him  long  to  be  away  from  the  spot.  And  still  the 
digging  went  on,  down  through  the  yielding  soil. 

"  Should  be  here  purty  close,"  Tony  remarked. 
"  Under  the  hearth-stone,  well  to  the  right.  I  ought  to 
be  near —     Hello !  what's  this  ?  " 

The  exclamation  was  caused  by  the  point  of  the  shovel 
striking  something  hard.  Again  and  again  the  thrust 
was  made,  and  each  time  a  hollow  sound  was  produced. 

"  It's  it !  It's  it !  n  shouted  Tony,  now  much  excited. 
"  I  knowed  it  was  here,"  and  he  dug  away  frantically, 
until  presently  an  iron  box  about  a  foot  long  and  six 
inches  wide  was  exposed  to  view.  Throwing  aside  the 
shovel,  he  seized  the  treasure  with  both  hands,  tore  it 
from  its  hiding-place  and  held  it  aloft. 

"  Look,  Steve !  "  he  cried,  trembling  with  excitement, 
"  I  knowed  thar  was  somethin'  here !  " 

Stephen  was  now  as  much  aroused  as  Tony.  "  "What's 
in  it,  do  you  think  ?  "  he  asked. 

"Gold!  that's  what's  in  it!  Te'll  soon  see,"  and 
Tony  pulled  back  a  little  iron  pin  and  threw  up  the 
cover.  As  he  did  so  he  gave  a  cry  of  surprise,  for  the 
light  falling  upon  the  interior  showed  nothing  there 
but  a  few  pieces  of  paper.  Tony  rubbed  his  eyes  in 
amazement,  and  then  looked  at  Stephen. 

"  Whar's  that  gold  ?  "  he  fiercely  demanded.  "  "What 
has  become  of  it  ?  " 

Stephen  scarcely  heard  him,  for  a  terrible  idea  had 
flashed  into  his  mind.  Someone  had  taken  it,  and  was 
it —  ?  He  hardly  dare  let  the  name  beat  for  an  instant 
through  his  brain.    It  was  cruel.     Xo,  no,  it  could  not 


BENEATH    THE   ASHES  253 

be !  That  white-haired  man  of  God  would  not  stoop  to 
such  a  thing!     But  where  was  the  gold? 

The  moon  rose  clear  and  full  above  the  distant 
horizon.  It  seemed  to  ask  silently  the  same  question. 
A  dog  from  a  farm-house  up  the  road  split  the  air  with 
its  hoarse  bark  of  wonder.  Stephen  placed  his  hand 
to  his  forehead  in  an  abstracted  manner.  Then  he 
glanced  at  the  box,  and  the  papers  lying  therein  arrested 
bis  attention.  He  reached  down  and  took  them  in  his 
hand.  They  were  tied  with  an  old  piece  of  tarred 
twine,  and  were  much  blackened  and  soiled.  Drawing 
forth  the  first  and  holding  it  close  to  the  lantern,  Stephen 
read  the  brief  words  recorded  there.  It  took  him  but  a 
minute  to  do  this,  and  then  followed  an  exclamation 
which  gave  Tony  a  distinct  start. 

"What  is  it,  Steve?"  he  asked.  "What  hev  ye 
found  I  " 

"  Read  this,  and  judge  for  yourself,"  Stephen 
replied,  thrusting  the  paper  into  his  companion's 
hands. 

As  Tony  spelled  out  the  words  his  eyes  bulged  with 
astonishment. 

"  Oh,  Steve !  "  he  gasped,  "  I'm  so  glad  it  isn't  the 
parson.     But  do  ye  think  this  is  all  right  ?  " 

"  It  looks  like  it.  See  the  date,  November  10th  of 
last  year.  And  notice,  too,  these  words  '  for  safe  keep- 
ing '  and  '  until  called  for.'  Why,  it's  as  plain  as  day. 
Then,  here's  the  amount,  { five  thousand  dollars,  all 
in  gold,  to  be  left  in  the  iron  box  marked  with  a  cross 
in  white  paint.'  " 


254  THE    FOURTH    WATCH 

"  Say,  Tony,"  Stephen  asked,  "  did  Billy  have  such 
a  box,  another  one  like  this  ? 

"  Why,  yes,  I  do  remember  one  very  well.  It  was 
smaller  than  this;  'twas  stouter  an'  had  a  lock  an'  key. 
He  kept  some  papers  an'  loose  change  in  it.  It  allu9 
sot  on  the  old  mantel-piece  over  the  fire-place." 

"Tony!"  said  Stephen,  looking  hard  at  the  paper, 
"if  that  box  of  gold  is  there  yet,  and  that  man  has 
been  silent  and  let  another  take  the  blame,  it's  the 
smallest,  vilest  piece  of  work  of  which  I  ever 
heard." 

"  Sure  'tis,  an'  I  say  let's  go  an'  ax  'im  'bout  it." 

"  But  he's  at  the  meeting  now." 

"  Well,  all  the  better.  It's  right  that  the  people 
should  hear.  But  say,  Steve,  what's  that  other 
paper  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  forgot  it.  Maybe  it  will  explain  things 
further." 

"  Why,  it's  Billy's  will !  "  cried  Stephen,  running  his 
eyes  over  the  closely  written  sheets,  "  and  he's  left  the 
whole  of  his  property,  gold,  farm  and  all,  to  you." 

"  To  me !  To  me !  "  exclaimed  Tony.  "  Ye  must 
be  mistaken." 

"  Bead  it  for  yourself,  then,"  and  Stephen  passed  over 
the  will.     "  It's  all  there  in  black  and  white." 

As  Tony  read,  his  face  flushed,  and  his  hands  clutched 
the  paper  in  the  intensity  of  his  feelings.  His  eyes 
flashed  as  he  turned  them  hard  upon  Stephen. 

"  I  understand  now!  "  he  cried.  "  That  villain  has 
tried  to  cheat  me  outer  all  this.     He  thought  the  will 


BENEATH    THE   ASHES  255? 

an'  everythin'  else  was  burned.  But  he  was  mistaken. 
Oh,  yes,  he  didn't  know  what  was  beneath  the  ashes. 
Come,  Steve,  let's  go  an'  ax  'im  a  few  questions. 
Mebbe  he'll  explain  things.  Anyway  we'll  give  'im  a 
chance.    Come,  let's  hurry  I  n 


CHAPTER  XXVI 
A  ROPE  OF  SAND 

SILAS  FAUPvIXGTON  was  much  disturbed  by 
Tony  Stickles'  arrival  in  Glendow.  He  bad  al- 
ways laugbed  at  tbe  lad,  considering  bim  a  stupid, 
ungainly  creature.  Occasionally  be  bad  overtaken  Tony 
on  tbe  road  trudging  wearily  along,  but  it  bad  never 
occurred  to  bim  to  offer  bim  a  seat  in  bis  waggon  or 
sleigh. 

"  It  spiles  sicb  people,"  be  bad  often  said,  "  to  take 
too  much  notice  of  'em.  They  have  a  sartin  place  in 
life,  an'  should  be  made  to  keep  it."  But  standing  in 
the  store  that  evening  after  Stephen's  departure,  the 
despised  Tony  occupied  an  important  place  in  his  mind. 
He  would  have  laughed  to  scorn  anyone  who  bad 
suggested  such  a  thing.  But  down  deep  in  his  heart, 
small  and  narrow  though  it  was,  dwelt  considerable 
unrest.  "  What  had  the  lad  come  back  for  ?  "  he  askecf 
himself  over  and  over  again.  "  What  was  the  special 
business  which  brought  him  so  unexpectedly  ?  Did  be 
know  anything  ?  "  Farrington's  face  twitched  as  he 
thought  of  these  things.  He  strode  up  and  down  in 
tbe  store.  Once  he  paused  before  the  safe  standing  in 
the  corner,  and  looked  long  and  thoughtfully  upon  it. 
A  muttered  curse  escaped  his  lips.    This  was  dncceeded 

256 


A    ROPE    OF    SAND  257 

by  a  scornful  laugh.  "  What  a  fool  I  am !  "  he  ex- 
claimed, "  to  worry  about  sich  things !  What  is  thar  to 
find  out  ?  Let  'em  do  their  best  and  be  damned !  We'll 
see  who  holds  the  stoutest  and  longest  rope.  That  Steve 
Frenelle's  a  cur,  an'  I  hate  'im.  He's  jist  the  one  to 
stir  up  trouble.  I've  suspected  'im  all  along.  He 
knows  too  much  fer  one  of  his  age.  Wait  'till  I'm 
councillor,  an'  then  I'll  show  'im  a  thing  or  two." 
Waggons  rattling  along  the  road  startled  him.  He 
glanced  at  his  watch.  "  My !  I  didn't  know  'twas 
so  late ;  almost  time  for  the  meetin'.     I  must  git  ready." 

The  big  public  hall  of  Glendow  was  packed  to  the 
door.  People  came  from  all  over  the  parish  to  this 
political  meeting,  for  lively  scenes  were  expected.  The 
two  candidates  opposed  to  each  other  were  to  be  there 
to  discuss  various  problems  of  local  interest.  On  the 
front  seat  sat  Mrs.  Farrington,  Eudora  and  Dick. 

Philip  Gadsby  was  the  first  speaker.  He  was  a  man 
tall  and  somewhat  thin,  with  a  kind,  thoughtful  face. 
His  voice  was  soft,  well  modulated,  and  his  words  care- 
fully chosen.  There  was  nothing  of  the  orator  about 
him,  in  fact  his  speech  was  somewhat  of  a  hesitating 
nature.  But  he  was  possessed  of  a  convincing  manner, 
and  all  who  were  there  knew  they  were  listening  to  a 
man  who  was  more  than  his  words,  and  that  what  he  said 
he  would  endeavour  to  accomplish  to  the  best  of  his 
ability.  He  spoke  about  the  needs  of  the  parish,  better 
roads,  improvement  of  the  schools,  and  the  efforts  which 
should  be  made  to  form  an  agricultural  society  in  Glen- 
dow, which  was  essentially  a  farming  community. 


258  THE    FOURTH    WATCH 

"  Our  watchword,"  he  said  in  conclusion,  "  should  be 
progress.  Look  at  our  roads.  Money  is  spent  upon 
them  every  season,  but  not  in  an  intelligent  way.  We 
find  men  at  times  appointed  roadmasters  who  seldom 
drive  over  the  highway.  Mud  and  sods  are  heaped  up 
in  the  centre  in  a  confused  fashion,  late  in  the  fall. 
Let  us  do  less,  do  it  well,  and  use  more  gravel.  Look 
at  our  schools.  The  buildings  are  old,  ill  equipped,  and 
sometimes  fifty  to  sixty  children  are  crowded  into  one 
room  fitted  only  to  accommodate  twenty,  and  one  teacher 
to  manage  all.  And  we  do  need  an  agricultural  society. 
We  are  farmers.  We  need  to  read,  study,  meet  together 
and  hear  addresses  from  experts.  New  methods  are  em- 
ployed elsewhere,  while  we  are  behind  the  times.  Yes, 
we  must  advance.  I  have  the  welfare  of  the  parish  at 
heart,  and  whether  elected  or  not  I  shall  still  take  my 
part  in  the  forward  movement." 

Often  during  the  speech  Gadsby  was  greeted  with 
cheers  and  clapping,  for  those  present  realized  the 
effectiveness  of  what  he  said,  and  he  sat  down  amid 
great  applause. 

It  was  then  that  Farrington  rose  to  his  feet  and 
mounted  the  platform.  He  had  listened  to  Gadsby's 
speech  with  amused  tolerance,  and  occasionally  whis- 
'  pered  something  to  his  wife  sitting  by  his  side.  He  was 
a  man  possessed  of  an  abundance  of  words,  and  he 
turned  his  attention  at  once  upon  the  first  speaker. 
Gadsby  had  made  no  personal  allusion  to  his  opponent. 
He  simply  stated  his  case  and  ceased.  But  not  so 
Farrington.     From  the  first  word  he  uttered  he  began 


A    ROPE    OF    SAND  259 

to  pour  forth  contempt  and  ridicule.  He  laughed  at 
Gadsby's  ideas  of  progress. 

"  I  think  we're  purty  well  advanced,"  he  shouted. 
u  The  schools  an'  roads  are  good  enough  fer  me.  Prog- 
ress means  more  money,  an'  more  money  means  bigger 
taxes.  The  children  of  Glendow  are  well  supplied,  an' 
as  fer  the  roads  they're  good  enough.  As  fer  an 
agricultural  society — well,"  and  here  he  cast  a  signifi- 
cant look  at  Gadsby,  "  them  who  talk  sich  things  had 
better  look  at  their  own  farms.  Before  I  go  out  shoutin' 
about  progress  I  had  better  be  sure  that  my  own  bizness 
is  on  a  good  footin'.  I  generally  find  that  sich  people 
spend  too  much  time  gaddin'  about  instid  of  attendin' 
to  their  own  home  affairs." 

And  thus  Farrington  talked  for  over  an  hour.  He 
wandered  off  into  all  kinds  of  subjects,  made  jokes  at 
which  the  boys  laughed,  and  told  funny  stories.  He 
imagined  he  was  putting  his  hearers  in  good  humour, 
and  he  took  their  cheers  and  stamping  as  signs  of  ap- 
proval. But  he  little  knew  what  the  serious-minded 
were  thinking  about.  They  were  slow  of  speech,  bur 
they  were  keen  observers,  and  they  were  mentally  com- 
paring the  two  candidates  before  them.  Farrington 
knew  nothing  of  this.  He  was  in  a  rollicking,  fine 
humour.  He  felt  pleased  with  the  people  for  their 
apparent  approval,  but  more  pleased  with  himself  for 
the  speech  he  was  making.  "  I'm  real  glad  to  see  so 
many  of  yez  here,"  he  said  in  conclusion.  "  I  think 
nearly  all  the  voters  are  present,  at  any  rate  every 
family  is  represented.     Now  if  any  of  jez  would  like  to 


260  TEE    FOURTH    WATCH 

ax  a  question  I  shall  be  glad  fer  'im  to  do  so.  I  take 
it  that  the  meetin'  is  open  fer  free  discussion." 

"  Guess  I've  made  a  hit,"  Farrington  whispered  to 
his  wife  as  he  resumed  his  seat  by  her  side.  "  The 
people  know  a  good  thine;  when  they  find  it." 

"  Ye  done  well,  Si,"  was  the  reply.  "  I'm  sartinly 
proud  of  ye.     Thar's  no  doubt  now  about  yor  election." 

The  clapping  and  stamping  had  not  ceased  ere  a  man 
was  noticed  pushing  his  way  through  the  crowd  to  the 
front  of  the  hall.  As  he  mounted  the  platform  the 
noise  suddenly  stopped,  fur  all  were  much  surprised  to 
see  Stephen  Frenelle  standing  there.  Xever  before 
had  he  been  known  to  do  such  a  thing,  especially  at  a 
political  meeting.  What  could  he  have  to  say?  All 
wondered.  And  Stephen,  too,  was  surprised.  He  was 
not  accustomed  to  public  speaking,  and  shrank  from 
the  thought  of  facing  so  many  people.  But  he  was  very 
calm  now,  and  in  his  eyes  flashed  a  light  which  bespoke 
danger.  In  his  right  hand  he  clutched  several  papers, 
which  all  noted.  lie  looked  steadily  over  the  heads  of 
the  people  before  speaking,  and  an  almost  breathless 
silence  ensued. 

"  You  wonder  why  I  am  here,"  he  began  at  length. 
"  I  am  not  used  to  the  platform,  and  only  a  matter  of 
great  importance  would  ever  make  me  mount  it.  The 
last  speaker  has  given  permission  for  all  to  ask  ques- 
tions. He  has  said  that  nearly  all  the  voters  are  here, 
and  that  every  family  is  represented.  I  will  tell  you 
of  one  voter  who  is  not  here,  one  who  on  an  occasion 
like  this  was  generally  present.    I  need  hardly  mention 


A    ROPE    OF    SAND  261 

his  name,  for  you  all  know.  I  now  ask  why  isn't  Parson 
John  with  us  to-night  ? "  He  paused  as  if  for  an 
answer,  and  looked  into  the  faces  before  him.  "  You 
all  know,"  he  continued,  "  as  well  as  I  do.  Because  he 
was  actually  driven  from  the  parish.  He  left  it  almost 
a  heart-broken  man." 

At  these  words,  Farrington  sprang  to  his  feet. 

"  What  has  all  this  nonsense  to  do  with  the  election  ?  " 
he  cried.  "  He's  out  of  order,  an'  I  appeal  to  the 
chairman  to  stop  'ini." 

"  Hear !  hear !  "  yelled  several.  "  Go  ahead,  Steve !  " 
shouted  others. 

"  Yes,  I  intend  to  go  ahead,"  replied  the  latter. 
"  You  will  find  out,  Mr.  Farrington,  before  I  am 
through  the  meaning  of  my  words,  and  perhaps  I  will 
not  be  the  only  one  out  of  order.  It's  more  likely  to  be 
disorder. 

"  I  was  asking  the  question  when  I  was  interrupted, 
'  Why  was  Parson  John  driven  from  the  parish  ? '  Be- 
cause of  vile  stories  which  were  circulated  about  him. 
And  what  were  those  stories  ?  You  know  as  well  as  I 
do.  I  need  not  mention  them  all ;  of  one  only  shall  I 
speak.  When  old  Billy  Fletcher's  house  was  burned 
to  the  ground,  and  the  gold  which  he  was  supposed  to 
have  could  not  be  found,  what  did  some  say  ?  That 
Parson  John  took  it.  Yes,  that's  what  they  said,  and 
you  all  know  it.  I've  heard  it  ever  since  then.  His 
friends  knew  it  was  a  lie,  but  what  could  they  say? 
What  proof  could  they  bring  forward  ?  I  now  ask  you 
what  became  of  that  gold  ?     It  is  a  secret  no  longer., 


2G2  THE    FOURTH    WATCH 

The  witness  is  here,"  and  Stephen  held  the  papers  aloft. 
The  silence  which  now  pervaded  the  hall  was  most  in- 
tense. Every  ear  was  strained  to  its  utmost,  and  every 
eye  was  fixed  full  upon  that  up-lifted  hand. 

"  Here  is  my  witness,"  repeated  Stephen,  "  and  I 
ask  the  man,  the  last  speaker,  whose  name  is  signed 
to  this  paper,  to  stand  up  and  give  us  an  explanation." 

During  the  latter  part  of  this  speech,  Farrington  had 
turned  as  white  as  death.  He  sat  bolt  upright,  with  his 
hands  clutching  convulsively  the  edge  of  the  seat.  He 
felt  that  something  terrible  was  pending,  and  a  horrible, 
craven  fear  overwhelmed  him !  He  knew  that  paper 
held  up  there  only  too  well.  It  was  simply  a  sheet 
of  cheap  writing-paper,  and  yet  it  was  his  ruin.  It 
was  damning  him  as  a  scoundrel  and  a  sneak  in  the 
presence  of  these  people ! 

"  Cannot  the  last  speaker  explain  how  his  name 
happens  to  be  here  and  what  he  knows  about  that 
gold  ? " 

These  words  fell  like  the  knell  of  doom  upon  Farring- 
ton's  ears.  What  was  he  to  do  ?  But  something  must 
be  done. 

"  What  d'ye  mean  ?  "  he  gasped.  "  What  d'ye  want 
me  to  explain?  " 

"  About  this  writing." 

"  What  writin',  an'  whar  did  ye  git  any  writin'  of 
mine?  It's  some  mean  trick!  "  he  shouted,  jumping  to 
his  feet.  "  This  villain  has  come  here  fer  the  purpose 
of  injurin'  me!    I  tell  ye  it's  false!  it's  false!  " 

"  But  what  about  this  ?  "  Stephen  insisted,  calmly 


A    ROPE    OF    SAND  263 

holding  up  one  of  the  papers.  "  And  there  are 
others." 

"  What  is  it  ?  What  is  it  ?  Read  it,  Steve,"  came  the 
cry  from  the  audience. 

"  I  say  it's  false !  "  shouted  Farrington,  springing 
again  to  his  feet,  his  face  blanched  with  terror.  "  It's 
a  mean  trick !  Put  the  villain  out !  Will  ye  let  an 
honest  man  be  put  upon  in  this  way  ?  " 

"  Read  the  paper,  Steve,"  urged  several.  "  Let's 
know  what's  the  matter.  We  don't  understand  this 
fuss." 

Farrington  made  a  pathetic  figure  as  he  stood  there 
uncertain  what  to  do.  He  knew  he  was  in  a  trap,  but 
he  had  not  the  moral  courage  to  stand  up  and  face  the 
worst  like  a  man.  Had  he  done  so  there  were  many  who 
would  have  pitied  him.  But  he  blustered  and  raved 
and  threatened  what  he  would  do. 

"  If  that  man  will  be  still  for  a  few  minutes,"  said 
Stephen,  "  I  shall  tell  you  what  these  papers  contain." 

"  Sit  down,  Farrington ! "  came  a  general  yell. 
"  We'll  hear  you  later." 

"  Xow,"  began  Stephen.  "  I  shall  read  this  one 
first.     It  is  not  long. 

"'To-day  October  30,  18—  I  placed  the  sum  of 
$5,000  in  gold  in  Silas  Farrington's  safe  for  him  to 
keep  until  called  for.  The  money  is  locked  in  a  stout, 
iron  box  marked  with  a  cross  with  white  paint.  I  do 
not  like  banks — they  are  not  to  be  depended  upon,  and 
are  always  failing.     This  seems  to  be  the  best  place  to 


264  THE    FOURTH    WATCH 

put  my  money.    I  am  to  give  ]\fr.  Farrington  one  dollar 
a  month  for  the  use  of  the  safe. 

'  William  Fletcher.'  " 

As  Stephen  finished  the  reading,  a  movement  took 
place  among  the  people  and  angry,  threatening  words 
were  interchanged. 

"  It's  a  lie!  "  yelled  Farrington.  "  It's  made  up  to 
ruin  me !     Will  ye  believe  sich  a  story  ?  " 

"Just  wait  a  minute,"  continued  Stephen,  holding 
forth  another  small  piece  of  paper.  Here  is  further 
evidence  which  might  be  of  some  service.  Listen  to 
this. 

"  '  Glendow,  Friday,  Oct.  30th,  1 8—  Received  from 
William  Fletcher,  the  sum  of  $5,000  in  gold,  in  an  iron 
box,  to  be  kept  for  him  in  trust  in  my  safe  until  called 
for,  he  promising  to  pay  me  one  dollar  a  month  for  the 
use  of  my  safe. 

'  Silas  Farrixgtox.'  " 

An  intense  silence  now  reigned  in  the  hall.  All  were 
waiting  to  see  what  would  happen  next.  It  was  the 
calm  before  the  storm.  The  people  were  more  than  sur- 
prised, they  were  dumfounded  at  this  sudden  turn  of 
events.  The  purpose  of  the  meeting  was  forgotten. 
Then  one  wild  cry  went  up.  There  was  confusion 
everywhere,  all  talking  and  shouting  at  once.  At  this 
the  chairman  rose  to  his  feet,  and  held  up  his  hand  for 
peace.  Gradually  the  commotion  subsided,  and  all 
waited  to  hear  what  he  had  to  say. 


A    ROPE    OF    SAND  265 

"  "We  are  much  astonished  at  what  has  happened,"  he 
began.  "  It  is  a  very  serious  matter.  These  papers 
are  of  a  most  damaging  nature  to  one  of  the  candidates 
here  to-night.  He  has  emphatically  denied  the  state- 
ments made  therein.  But  we  demand  further  proof. 
Let  him  now  come  forward  and  speak.  Perhaps  he  can 
explain  matters  fully." 

"  Hear !  Hear !  "  came  from  every  part  of  the  build- 
ing. 

Half  dazed  and  trembling,  Parrington  staggered  for- 
ward, and  grasped  the  back  of  a  chair  for  support. 

"  It's  a  lie,  I  tell  ye !  "  he  shouted.  "  But  I  want  to 
ax  one  question.  "Whar  did  them  papers  come  from  ? 
Ye  all  know  very  well  that  everything  was  burned  which 
old  Billy  had  in  the  house.  Not  a  scrap  of  anything 
was  left,  and  how  did  them  papers  escape  ?  That' s 
proof  enough  to  show  what  a  mean  trick  has  been  played 
upon  me.    I  am  the  one  to  ax  fer  an  explanation." 

"  That  shall  be  granted  at  once,"  Stephen  replied,  and 
in  a  few  words  he  told  of  Tony  Stickles'  arrival,  their 
search  beneath  the  large  hearth-stone,  and  the  discovery 
of  the  iron  box  containing  the  valuable  papers. 

"  Tony  is  here,"  said  Stephen  in  conclusion,  "  and  if 
you  do  not  believe  me,  ask  him." 

But  there  was  no  need  for  Tony's  witness.  The 
evidence  was  already  strong  enough,  and  the  people 
were  aroused. 

"  Mr.  Parrington,"  said  the  chairman,  motioning  the 
audience  to  be  quiet.  "  If  you  have  that  gold  in  your 
safe,  it  will  save  considerable  trouble  if  you  produce  it 


2G6  THE    FOURTH    WATCH 

at  once.  If  it  is  there  and  you  have  kept  silence  and 
allowed  that  man  of  God  to  suffer,  you  deserve  the 
severest  punishment.  Is  it  the  wish  of  the  people  here 
that  the  safe  should  he  opened  ?  " 

"  Ay,  ay !  "  came  like  a  roar  of  thunder. 

"  Ye  can't  do  it !  "  yelled  Farrington,  rising  to  his 
feet.  "  It's  my  private  property,  an'  I  defy  anyone 
to  touch  my  safe." 

"  Oh,  we'll  not  touch  it,"  the  chairman  coolly  re- 
marked. "  We'll  not  lay  hands  on  it.  All  we  ask  you 
to  do  is  to  throw  open  the  door  and  show  us  what's 
inside." 

"  It  ain't  lawful,  I  say,"  shouted  the  desperate  man. 

"Maybe  it  isn't  lawful.  But  we'll  attend  to  that,  I 
reckon.  Sometimes  people  take  the  law  into  their  own 
hands,  and  I  guess  that's  what  we'll  do  to-night.  In 
my  opinion  there's  not  a  judge  or  a  jury  in  the  whole 
land  but  would  support  our  action.  Come  now,  you'd 
better  do  as  we  desire  at  once." 

Farrington,  excited  though  he  was,  found  it  necessary 
to  do  some  rapid  thinking.  He  knew  he  could  not 
delay  that  angry  assembly  much  longer.  One  hope 
only  remained,  and  upon  this  he  acted. 

"  Very  well,"  he  replied,  "  I  might  as  well  go  at 
once.  Come  when  you  like,  you  kin  examine  every- 
thing in  the  safe.     I'm  not  afeer'd  fer  ye  to  look." 

He  took  a  step  or  two  forward  with  the  intention  of 
leaving. 

"  Wait  a  minute,"  said  the  chairman.  "  Don't  be  in 
too  big  a  hurry.     We'll  go  along  with  you.     It's  always 


A    ROPE    OF    SAND  267 

good  to  have  company  on  such  occasions." 

"  I  don't  want  anyone,"  snapped  Farrington,  turning 

angrily  upon  him. 

"  No,  I  know  you  don't.     But  we're  not  considering 

your  feelings  just  now." 

"  Then,  I'll  not  go!    Do  what  you  like  with  me!  " 

and  Farrington  sank  hack  upon  the  seat,  a  pitiable 

bundle  of  wretched  humanity. 


CHAPTER  XXVII 

IN  THE  TOILS 

UKING  the  whole  of  this  excitement,  Mrs.  Far- 
rington  had  remained  motionless,  striving  to 
comprehend  the  meaning  of  it  all.  At  first  a 
great  rage  filled  her  heart  at  the  thought  of  Stephen 
Frenelle  talking  in  such  a  way  to  her  husband.  But 
when  the  papers  had  been  read  her  anger  was  changed 
to  fear,  which  was  much  increased  by  Farrington's  ex- 
cited condition.  She  realized  that  he  was  placed  in  an 
unenviable  position,  but  thought  not  so  much  of  the 
meanness  of  his  deed  as  of  what  the  neighbours  would 
say.  How  could  she  ever  hold  up  her  head  again?  she 
wondered.  How  the  women  would  talk !  And  then  to 
think  that  Si  was  in  danger  of  losing  the  election,  all 
on  account  of  this  Stephen  Frenelle.  What  business 
had  he  to  interfere?  It  was  no  concern  of  his.  She 
watched  everything  which  took  place,  and  listened 
eagerly  to  each  word.  She  heard  the  chairman  ordering 
her  husband  to  wait  until  several  went  with  him  to 
search  his  safe.  Then  when  she  had  seen  him  sink 
upon  the  seat  at  her  side,  she  gave  one  cry  and  fell 
prostrate  upon  the  floor. 

At  once  several  people  sprang  forward,  and  strong 
arms  bore  her  through  the  crowd  into  the  open  air. 

268 


IN    THE    TOILS  269 

Farrington  hardly  noticed  what  was  taking  place. 
He  sat  huddled  upon  the  seat  where  he  had  dropped, 
helpless  and  full  of  despair. 

"  Come,  Mr.  Farrington  " — it  was  the  chairman's 
voice — "  we  must  get  through  with  this  business,  and  we 
are  determined  to  get  through  with  it  to-night.  Will 
you  go  quietly  and  open  that  safe,  or  must  we  carry  you 
there  ? " 

No  answer  coming  from  the  wretched  man,  the 
chairman  continued :  "  Very  well,  then,  men,  there's 
only  one  thing  left — and  what's  your  wish  ?  " 

"  Drag  him  there,"  was  the  shout,  and  a  yell  of 
derision  arose  whilst  a  number  of  sturdy  forms  rushed 
forward.  The  people  were  wildly  excited  now.  They 
realized  the  nature  of  the  trick  which  had  been  imposed 
upon  an  innocent  man.  Had  the  money  been  merely 
stolen,  or  had  Farrington  committed  forgery,  they 
would  have  let  the  law  take  its  course.  But  in  this  case 
the  vile  meanness  of  the  deed,  the  criminal  silence  of 
months,  stirred  their  hearts,  inflamed  their  passions, 
and  carried  them  beyond  the  bounds  of  reason. 

"  Let  me  alone ! "  yelled  Farrington,  as  a  dozen 
hands  were  laid  upon  him. 

"  Will  you  come,  then  ?  " 

"  Y-y — es,"  was  the  quaking  reply. 

"  Well,  hurry  up  about  it,"  and  as  the  wretched  man 
started  for  the  door,  he  was  rushed  forward  by  the 
crowd  which  surged  about  him.  Hatless  and  almost 
breathless,  with  wild  staring  eyes,  Farrington  staggered 
along  the  road.     The  store  was  reached. 


270  THE    FOURTH    WATCH 

"  Unlock  the  door,"  was  the  command,  "  and  make 
haste  about  it." 

This  was  soon  done  and  the  crowd  pressed  into  the 
building. 

"  Now  open  the  safe !  "  the  chairman  demanded, 
"  and  show  us  what's  there." 

But  just  here  Farrington,  terrified  though  he  was, 
hesitated.  Like  the  man  who,  about  to  die  on  the 
gallows,  cherishes  hope  of  deliverance  almost  to  the 
last,  so  did  he.  Perhaps  his  friends  would  interfere  to 
save  him  from  the  ignominy.  But  alas  !  his  former  boon 
companions,  Tom  Fletcher  and  his  gang,  were  nowhere 
to  be  seen.  They  had  quietly  slunk  away,  fearful  for 
their  own  safety  from  the  infuriated  people.  Xow  that 
safe  door  stood  only  between  Farrington  and  eternal 
disgrace.  It  was  no  wonder  that  he  paused.  ITow  could 
he  do  it  ?  The  perspiration  stood  in  great  beads  upon 
his  forehead,  and  his  knees  would  hardly  support  his 
body. 

"  I  can't !  "  he  gasped,  looking  imploringly  around. 

A  yell  was  the  only  response  to  his  appeal. 

"  Boys,"  cried  the  chairman,  when  the  confusion  had 
subsided,  "  there's  a  coil  of  new  rope  over  there  in  the 
corner,  and  a  stout  tree  stands  outside.  Suppose  we 
give  him  his  choice.  He  can  either  open  the  safe  or  go 
up  to  the  first  limb." 

"  Hear,  hear !  "  was  the  reply,  and  a  rush  was  made 
for  the  rope,  a  long  piece  cut  off  and  a  loop  formed. 
The  chairman  had  no  idea  of  carrying  out  the  latter 
design,  and  he  knew  very  well  that  such  an  extreme 


IN    THE    TOILS  271 

measure  would  not  be  needed.  It  was  simply  a  ruse 
to  get  the  safe  open.  And  in  this  he  was  right.  When 
Farrington  heard  their  terrible  words,  and  saw  the 
noose  made  ready,  with  a  groan  he  sank  upon  his  knees 
before  the  safe.  With  trembling  hands  he  turned  the 
steel  disk,  but  somehow  the  combination  would  not 
work.  Again  and  again  he  tried,  the  people  becoming 
more  and  more  impatient.  They  believed  he  was  only 
mocking  them,  while  in  reality  he  was  so  confused  that 
he  hardly  knew  what  he  was  doing.  But  at  length  the 
right  turn  was  made  and  the  heavy  door  swung  open 
upon  its  iron  hiuges. 

"  Bring  out  the  stuff,"  demanded  the  chairman. 

One  by  one  the  articles  were  brought  forward,  and 
last  of  all  from  a  back  corner  Farrington  slowly  dragged 
forth  an  iron  box  with  a  white  cross  mark  upon  it. 

A  shout  of  triumph  rose  from  those  who  first  beheld 
it,  and  then  yells  of  derision. 

"  Order !  "  commanded  the  chairman. 

"  Is  that  Billy  Fletcher's  box  ?  " 

"Y-y— es." 

"  And  you  knew  it  was  there  all  the  time,  and  let 
Parson  John  get  the  blame  for  stealing  it  %  " 

"  Y-y — es.  B-b — ut  fer  God's  sake  have  mercy !  I — 
I — didn't  mean  to  do  it !  I  was  o-only  j-j — okin' !  I 
intended  to  ex-p-plain  everything." 

There  was  an  ominous  movement  among  the  by- 
standers, and  those  in  the  rear  did  some  excited  talking, 
while  several  left  the  building.  Presently  the  sound  of 
heavy  blows  was  heard  in  the  store-room  adjoining  the 


272  THE    FOURTH    WATCH 

shop.  Thon  a  rush  of  feet  ensued,  arid  Farrington  was 
suddenly  caught  and  hurried  forward.  The  light  of  a 
small  lamp  shed  its  feeble  beams  over  the  place,  making 
it  look  more  ghostly  than  ever.  The  intentions  of  his 
captors  flashed  into  Farrington's  mind.  Standing  there 
was  a  large  cask  of  tar  used  for  boats  and  the  roofs  of 
houses.  The  head  had  been  smashed  in,  and  the  odour 
was  pouring  forth. 

"  Fer  God's  sake  not  that !  "  shrieked  the  wretched 
man.     "  Oh,  help,  help !    Murder!" 

But  his  cries  were  all  in  vain.  Hough  hands  were 
laid  upon  him,  his  clothes  were  hurriedly  ripped  off, 
and  he  was  lifted  bodily,  and  lowered  feet  first  into  the 
black,  slimy  depth.  He  resisted,  but  it  was  useless.  He 
was  forced  down  upon  his  knees,  and  the  tar  covered 
him  to  his  very  ears.  Silence  reigned  now  in  the  room. 
They  were  determined  men  who  were  handling  this 
nasty  job,  and  with  set  mouths  and  intense  grimness 
they  watched  the  victim  flounder  about  and  then  give 
up  in  despair. 

When  he  had  been  soused  and  soaked  to  their  satisfac- 
tion he  was  helped  out,  and  with  the  tar  dripping  from 
his  body  he  was  led  back  into  the  main  store.  There 
a  large  feather-bed  was  seen  spread  out  upon  the  floor. 
It  had  been  ripped  open,  and  into  this  Farrington  was 
plunged.  He  yelled  and  cursed,  but  to  no  avail.  He 
was  rolled  over  and  over  among  the  yielding  feathers, 
and  when  at  length  he  was  allowed  to  stand  upon  his 
feet  he  presented  the  picture  of  a  strange,  incongruous 
bird  with  the  head  and  feet  of  a  man.     Xo  hand  touched 


IN    THE    TOILS  273 

him  now,  and  he  stood  there  not  knowing  what  to 
expect. 

"  Go,"  cried  the  chairman  pointing  to  the  hack  door 
leading  into  his  house,  "  and  the  sooner  you  pull  up 
stakes  and  leave  the  parish  the  better  for  yourself  and 
family.'' 

As  soon  as  Stephen  knew  that  his  services  were  no 
longer  needed,  he  stood  hack  and  let  matters  take  their 
course.  He  followed  the  crowd  to  the  store  to  see  what 
would  happen.  Xot  until  he  had  seen  the  box  with  his 
own  eyes  could  he  be  completely  satisfied  with  his  even- 
ing's work.  But  when  at  length  the  safe  was  opened 
and  the  box  exposed  to  view,  he  gave  a  deep  sigh  of 
relief.  He  had  waited  to  see  what  the  men  would  do 
with  Farrington.  He  knew  that  the  punishment  in- 
flicted was  just.  Stephen  did  not  believe  in  the  mob 
spirit,  but  he  realized  that  the  most  effective  remedy  at 
times  was  that  administered  when  the  people  aroused  in 
righteous  indignation  tarred  and  feathered  the  culprit, 
bestowed  the  cat-o'-nine-tails  or  ducked  him  in  the 
nearest  pond.  Though  not  in  accordance  with  the 
British  Constitution  it  is  certainly  the  most  effective 
way  of  dealing  with  some  mean,  contemptible  cases. 
And  Farrington's  was  one  of  them.  With  clever  legal 
counsel  he  might  be  able  to  prove  that  he  was  acting 
within  his  right  in  holding  the  money  "  until  called  for," 
according  to  the  wording  of  the  paper  he  had  signed, 
while  the  real  motive  that  prompted  him  to  keep  silence 
might  not  be  considered  at  all. 

Having  thus  seen  Farrington  receive  his  just  deserts, 


27-i  THE    FOURTH    WATCH 

Stephen  hurried  home.  A  light  was  burning  in  the 
sitting-room  which  his  mother  had  left  for  him  ere  she 
retired  for  the  night.  lie  threw  himself  into  an  arm- 
chair and  reviewed  the  exciting  scenes  of  the  evening. 
A  weight  had  been  suddenly  lifted  from  his  mind,  and 
his  heart  was  filled  with  thankfulness.  lie  thought  of 
the  joy  which  would  shine  in  Nellie's  face  when  she 
learned  how  her  father  had  been  cleared  of  that  terrible 
charge.  He  longed  to  see  her,  to  look  into  her  eyes,  to 
clasp  her  hands  and  tell  her  what  had  so  unexpectedly 
happened.  Was  she  thinking  of  him  ?  he  wondered,  and 
what  was  she  doing?  He  realized  more  than  ever  what 
she  meant  to  him.  Life  was  unbearable  without  her 
sweet,  loving  presence. 

At  length,  taking  the  lamp  in  his  hand  he  sought  his 
own  room,  but  not  to  sleep.  He  threw  himself  upon  the 
bed,  clothes  and  all.  But  try  as  he  might  his  eyes 
would  not  close.  Ever  before  him  rose  that  white-haired 
old  man,  with  the  weary  face,  bearing  so  patiently  the 
burden  of  injustice.  Why  should  he  carry  the  load  any 
longer  ?  Why  should  he  not  know  the  truth  as  soon  as 
possible  ?  And  how  would  he  know  unless  someone  wont 
at  once  ?  Acting  upon  the  thought  he  sprang  from  the 
bed,  lighted  the  lamp  and  stole  softly  downstairs.  He 
was  about  to  leave  the  house,  when  he  paused,  and  turn- 
ing back  went  to  a  little  writing-desk  and  drew  forth  a 
sheet  of  paper.  Taking  a  pencil  from  his  pocket  he 
wrote  a  brief  message  to  his  mother,  and  laid  it  upon 
the  dining-room  table,  where  she  would  be  sure  to  find  it 
in  the  morning. 


IN    THE    TOILS  275 

Having  accomplished  this  he  left  the  house  and  made 
£io  way  to  the  barn.  His  favourite  horse  was  startled 
from  his  sleep,  and  laid  back  his  ears  in  resentment 
as  the  saddle  was  placed  upon  his  back,  and  he  was  led 
out  of  the  stable.  The  moon  was  flooding  the  whole 
land  with  its  silver  beams  as  Stephen  sprang  into  the 
saddle  and  headed  Dexter  for  the  main  road.  Then 
the  ring  of  steel-shod  hoofs  echoed  upon  the  still  air 
us  horse  and  rider  sped  through  the  night,  on  to  a 
little  village  far  away  beyond  the  hills. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII 
WAITING  AND   SERVING 

I  FEEL  completely  side-tracked  now.  Life  moves 
forward,  but  here  I  am  a  useless  burden." 
It  was  Parson  John  who  spoke,  as  he  leaned  back 
in  an  easy-chair  and  gazed  dreamily  out  of  the  window. 
Xellie  laid  down  the  book  she  had  been  read  inn;  aloud 
and  looked  anxiously  at  her  father.  This  was  the  third 
day  they  had  been  at  Morristown,  and  it  was  the  first 
time  her  father  had  uttered  any  word  of  complaint. 
The  change  had  been  restful,  and  he  had  enjoyed  it 
thoroughly.  There  had  been  so  many  things  to  see  and 
to  talk  about  with  his  brother  that  he  hardly  missed 
the  separation  from  Glendow.  A  sense  of  glad  freedom 
had  been  his.  There  was  no  responsibility  of  parish 
work,  and  no  long,  tiresome  drives  ahead.  He  need 
not  worry  about  sermons  for  the  following  Sunday,  nor 
feel  concerned  for  any  who  might  be  sick.  It  was  a 
luxury  to  sit  there  quietly  in  the  large,  airy  room  with 
the  fresh  breath  of  spring  pervading  the  place,  and  to 
tvatch  the  trees  putting  forth  their  tender  leaves  and 
the  fields  donning  their  robe  of  green,  yellow  and  white. 
Occasionally  Xellie  read  to  him  from  some  favourite 
author,  although  much  of  her  time  was  taken  up  help- 
ing  her    aunt    with    various    household    duties.      The 

276 


WAITING    AND    SERVING  27? 

change  which,  she  beheld  in  her  father  caused  her  much 
joy.  "  It  is  just  what  he  needs,"  she  thought.  "  A 
good  rest  will  restore  him  more  than  anything  else." 
So  now  on  this  bright  afternoon  to  hear  him  complain 
of  being  side-tracked,  of  no  use  in  the  world,  worried 
her. 

"  You  must  remember,  father  dear,"  she  replied,  "  it 
is  well  to  be  side-tracked  sometimes.  Engines  are  often 
laid  by  for  repairs,  and  I  have  heard  you  say  that  we 
need  rest  that  mind  and  body  might  be  strengthened." 

"  True,  very  true,  Nellie.  But  I  seem  to  be  useless. 
There  are  so  many  things  to  be  done,  and  but  little  time 
in  which  to  do  them.  When  one  has  been  engaged  in  a 
work  for  over  thirty  years  it  is  not  easy  to  lay  it  sud- 
denly aside.  It  becomes  part  of  one's  life.  Some  may 
think  that  rest  is  sitting  still  and  doing  nothing.  But  to 
me  such  a  thought  is  terrible.  '  Rest,'  as  a  great  poet 
has  well  said,  '  is  not  quitting  life's  busy  career.  Rest 
is  the  fitting  of  self  to  one's  sphere !  '  " 

"  Yes,  father,  but  did  not  blind  old  Milton  say  that 
'  They  also  serve  who  only  stand  and  wait.'  " 

"  But  how  am  I  serving,  Nellie  ?  Y\  nat  is  there  for 
me  to  do  here  ?  I  sit  all  day  long  and  think,  while 
others  serve  me." 

"  Eather,"  Nellie  replied  after  a  brief  silence,  "  I 
believe  a  stroll  would  do  you  good.  You  have  been 
staying  in  the  house  too  much.  I  have  discovered  some 
very  pleasant  walks  cut  from  the  village,  and,  if  it  will 
not  weary  you,  suppose  we  start  off  now." 

Her  father  looked  up  quickly  at  the  suggestion. 


278  THE    FOURTH    WATCH 

"  Capital!  "  he  exclaimed.  "  It's  just  what  I  need. 
I  am  becoming  too  moody,  and  the  fresh  air  will  revive 
me." 

He  was  almost  like  a  child  now  in  his  eagerness  to 
he  off.  "With  his  stout  cane  in  one  hand,  and  leaning 
upon  his  daughter's  arm,  he  moved  slowly  along  the 
dry  road,  through  the  village  and  out  into  the  country 
where  the  houses  were  few. 

"  Oh,  this  is  life,  grand,  true  life !  "  and  he  stood  for 
a  few  minutes  looking  far  away  across  the  broad  fields. 
The  air  laden  with  the  freshness  of  spring  drifted  about 
them ;  the  birds  flitting  overhead  were  pouring  forth 
their  joyous  music,  while  on  every  side  early  flowers 
were  lifting  their  tiny  heads.  All  nature  seemed  to 
combine  to  give  a  glad  welcome  to  these  two 
wayfarers. 

At  length,  coming  to  a  cross  road,  Xellie  paused. 

"  Look,  father,"  and  she  pointed  to  a  large  tree  near 
by.  "  What  a  cool,  shady  spot !  Suppose  we  rest  there 
for  a  while,  and  I  will  read  some  from  the  little  book 
I  have  brought  with  me." 

Willingly  Mr.  Westmore  conceded  to  her  wish,  and 
soon  they  were  snugly  seated  on  the  grassy  sward.  With 
his  back  against  the  tree,  Parson  John  breathed  a  sigh  of 
relief  as  he  wiped  the  perspiration  from  his  forehead 
with  a  large,  white  handkerchief. 

So  absorbed  did  they  both  become  in  the  book  that 
neither  noticed  the  black  clouds  which  had  been  gather- 
ing away  to  the  south,  and  were  now  rolling  up  fearful 
and  threatening  beneath  the  sun.     A  distant  peal  of 


WAITING    AND    SERVING  279 

thunder,  followed  by  a  bright  flash  of  lightning,  startled 
them. 

"  A  storm  is  coming !  "  exclaimed  Nellie,  springing  to 
her  feet.  "  "We  must  hurry  home  at  once !  The  road 
to  the  right  is  shorter.  I  know  it  quite  well;  we  had 
better  take  that." 

They  had  not  proceeded  far,  however,  before  the  peals 
of  thunder  became  more  intense,  and  soon  large  drops 
of  rain  came  spattering  down. 

"  "We're  in  for  a  heavy  storm,"  panted  Mr.  West- 
more.  "  It's  about  to  burst  upon  us.  We  must  seek 
shelter !  " 

"  There's  a  house  right  ahead,"  Nellie  replied. 
"  Perhaps  we  can  get  in  there." 

They  plodded  on  in  silence  now,  and  turned  in  at  a 
little  gate  none  too  soon.  Scarcely  had  they  entered  the 
small  porch  in  front  of  the  house  ere  the  storm  broke. 
Hail,  mingled  with  rain,  came  thundering  down  upon 
the  roof,  and,  dashing  against  the  glass,  threatened  to 
smash  in  every  pane.  The  thunder  crashed  and  shook 
the  house,  while  the  lightning  streaked  the  air  with 
blinding  flashes. 

"  This  is  terrible !  "  exclaimed  Nellie,  clinging  to 
her  father's  arm,  her  face  very  white.  "  We  must  get 
into  the  house !  " 

They  knocked  upon  the  door,  but  received  no  re- 
sponse. Again  they  rapped  louder  than  before,  and  at 
length  a  key  was  slowly  turned  and  a  woman,  neatly 
dressed  and  fair  to  look  upon,  peered  timidly  forth. 


2S0  THE    FOURTH    WATCH 

A  relieved  look  came  into  her  face  as  she  saw  the 
two  standing  there. 

"  Come  in,"  she  said,  giving  a  little  nervous  laugh. 
"  This  fearful  storm  has  quite  overcome  me." 

She  led  the  way  into  a  cosy  sitting-room,  and  offered 
her  visitors  chairs. 

"  You  will  pardon  our  intrusion,  I  am  sure,"  ex- 
plained Mr.  Westmore.  "  We  came  simply  for  shelter. 
We  arc  much  obliged  to  you." 

"  2sTot  at  all,  sir,"  replied  the  woman.  "I  am  so 
glad  you  came.  I  am  alone  with  the  children,  and  they 
are  all  much  frightened." 

"And  your  husband  is  away?" 

"  Yes.  lie's  been  gone  all  winter.  He  was  working 
in  the  woods  for  Hodgers  &  Peterson,  and  is  now  on  the 
drive." 

"  Dear  me  !  it  must  be  hard  for  you  to  have  him  away 
so  much." 

"  It  is,  sir.  But  he  will  stay  home  after  this.  lie 
has  earned  enough  this  winter  to  make  the  last  payment 
on  our  farm.  We  have  been  struggling  for  years,  saving 
every  cent  and  working  hard  to  get  the  place  free  from 
debt,  and  now  it  will  be  our  very  own  if — if — ,"  and 
the  woman  hesitated. 

"  How  glad  your  husband  will  be  to  be  home,"  said 
Xellie,  with  her  eyes  fixed  upon  several  bright  little 
faces  in  the  doorway.  "  He  must  long  to  see  you 
all." 

"  Ay,  indeed  he  does,  but  especially  Doris.  She  is 
our  invalid  girl,  you  see,  and  is  very  dear  to  us.     She 


WAITING    AND    SERVING  281 

can't  romp  and  play  like  the  others,  and  I  suppose  for 
that  reason  she  appeals  to  us  the  more." 

"  Has  she  been  ill  long  ?  "  questioned  Mr.  "Westmore, 
becoming  now  much  interested. 

"  For  five  years.  It's  hip  disease,  and  she  will  never 
walk  without  a  crutch,  if  she  does  then.  Perhaps  you 
would  like  to  see  her." 

They  were  conducted  into  a  small  bedroom,  and  the 
sight  which  met  their  eyes  moved  them  both.  Lying  on 
the  bed  was  a  girl  of  about  fifteen  years  of  age,  with  a 
sweet,  fair  face,  large,  expressive  eyes,  and  a  high  fore- 
head crowned  by  a  wealth  of  jet-black  hair,  parted  in 
the  middle  and  combed  back  with  considerable  care. 
The  room,  was  as  neat  and  clean  as  loving  hands  could 
make  it.  A  bright  smile  illumined  the  girl's  face, 
which  Nellie  thought  the  most  beautiful  she  had  ever 
looked  upon. 

"  It's  so  good  of  you  to  come  to  see  me,"  she  said. 
"  Very  few  come,  and  I  do  get  lonely  at  times." 

"  You  will  be  glad  when  your  father  comes  home, 
will  you  not  ?  "  Nellie  remarked,  taking  the  girl's  thin, 
white  hand. 

"  Oh,  it  will  be  delightful !  He  has  been  away  so 
long.  Let  me  see,"  and  she  counted  on  her  fingers. 
"  He  has  not  been  home  since  Christmas." 

"  B  sit  he  writes  to  you,  though  ?  " 

"  Yes,  such  lovely  letters,  all  about  his  work.  But 
the  last  one  was  so  sad.  I  have  cried  over  it  many 
times.  I  have  it  right  here.  "Would  you  like  to  read 
it  1     It's  so  interesting." 


282  THE    FOURTH    WATCH 

"  Suppose  you  tell  us  about  it,  dear/'  said  ^Ir.  "West- 
more,  taking  a  chair  by  the  side  of  the  bed.  "  That 
will  be  better." 

The  girl's  face  flushed  a  little,  and  she  hesitated. 

"  I'm  afraid  I  can't  tell  it  half  as  well  as  father  does 
in  his  letter.  You  know,  the  men  were  bringing  the  logs 
down  Big  Creek  Brook,  and  they  all  got  stuck  in  a 
nasty  place  called  Giant  Gorge.  One  big  log  in  some 
way,  I  don't  understand,  stopped  the  rest,  and  it  had 
to  be  cut  out.  It  was  a  dangerous  thing  to  do,  and  the 
men  drew  lots  to  see  who  would  go  down  into  that  awful 
place.  And  just  think,  papa  drew  the  paper  with  the 
mark  upon  it,  which  meant  that  he  was  to  do  it !  I 
shudder  and  cry  every  time  I  think  about  it.  Well, 
as  dear  papa  was  about  to  go,  a  young  man,  Tony 
Stickles,  sprang  forward  and  said  he  would  go,  because 
papa  had  six  children  and  a  wife  who  needed  him. 
"Wasn't  that  lovely  of  him?  I  should  like  to  see  him. 
And  just  think,  before  papa  could  stop  him  he  sprang 
upon  the  logs,  cut  away  the  one  which  held  the  rest, 
and  all  rushed  down  right  on  top  of  him.  Papa  said  he 
was  sure  Tony  would  be  killed,  but  he  jumped  from  one 
log  to  another,  and  when  all  thought  he  would  get  to 
the  shore,  the  logs  opened  and  he  fell  into  the  water. 
Then  something  wonderful  happened,  so  papa  said.  As 
Tony  was  clinging  there  a  boy  suddenly  cam^  along, 
jumped  upon  the  logs,  ran  over  them,  and  pulled  Tony 
out  just  in  time.  But  a  log  hit  the  poor  little  boy,  and 
Tony  had  to  carry  him  ashore.  Don't  you  think  that's  a 
lovely  story,   and  weren't  they  both  very  brave,  real 


WAITING    AND    SERVING  283 

heroes  like  you  read  about  in  books  ?  Ob,  I  lie  here 
hour  by  "hour  and  think  it  all  over !  " 

The  girl's  face  was  quite  flushed  now,  for  she  had 
spoken  hurriedly,  and  her  eyes  shone  brighter  than 
ever.    She  was  living  the  scene  she  related. 

"  What  a  nice  story  you  have  told  us,"  Nellie  replied 
when  Doris  had  finished.  "  I  am  glad  to  hear  what  a 
brave  deed  Tony  did,  for  we  both  know  him." 

"  What !  vou  know  him  ?  "  cried  the  girl. 

"  Yes,  very  well.    Ever  since  he  was  a  baby." 

"  How  nice  it  must  be  to  know  a  real  hero !  "  sighed 
the  girl.     "  Please  tell  me  about  him." 

And  there  in  the  little  room  Nellie  told  about  Tony, 
his  mother,  brothers  and  sisters,  to  which  Doris  listened 
most  eagerly.  ~~ 

"  We  must  go  now,"  said  Mr.  Westmore  rising  to  his 
feet  and  looking  out  of  the  window.  "  The  storm  has 
cleared  and  the  sun  is  shining  brightly." 

"  But  you  will  both  come  again,  won't  you  ?  "  Doris 
inquired  as  she  held  out  her  hand. 

"  Yes,  if  you  want  us  to  do  so,"  Nellie  replied.  "  But 
we  don't  wish  to  tire  you." 

"  You  won't  tire  me.  I  long  for  someone  to  talk  to, 
and  you  kuow  so  much." 

Parson  John  had  now  left  the  room,  and  Nellie  was 
holding  the  girl's  hand.  She  glanced  at  the  door  to 
make  sure  that  her  father  could  not  hear,  then  she  bent 
over  the  bed. 

"  Did  your  father  tell  you  the  name  of  that  boy  who 
saved  Tonv's  life  ?  " 


284  THE    FOURTH    WATC^ 

"  Xo.     He  said  he  didn't  know.'* 

"Did  he  say  what  lie  was  doing;  there ?  " 

"  Xo,  only  he  had  a  funny  little  letter  for  Tony.  It 
was  in  his  pocket,  and  when  they  opened  it  a  small  rose 
fell   out." 

"  And  he  didn't  say  what  the  letter  was  about  ?  " 

"  Xo." 

"  Thank  you,  dear,  I  must  go  now,"  and  as  Xcllie 
stooped  down  and  cave  the  girl  a  kiss,  Doris  suddenly 
clasped  her  anus  about  her  neck. 

"  I  love  you  !  T  love  you  !  "  she  murmured.  "  You 
are  so  beautiful  and  good!     Come  soon,  will  you?  " 

"Yes,  dear,  to-morrow,  perhaps,"  and  as  Xellie  left 
the  room  her  eyes  were  moist  with  the  tears  she  found 
impossible  to  restrain. 

As  she  walked  along  the  wet  road  by  her  father's  side 
her  mind  was  busy  thinking  over  what  she  had  just 
heard.  Who  was  that  boy?  lie  must  be  a  stranger  to 
that  place,  and  what  was  the  letter  about  ?  Could  it  be 
Dan  ?  How  often  had  she  and  her  father  talked  about 
the  boy.  They  believed  that  he  would  come  back  some 
day.  Suddenly  there  flashed  into  her  mind  the  persist- 
ent efforts  Dan  had  made  to  write  a  letter,  and  how  he 
had  time  and  time  again  asked  her  the  way  to  spell 
certain  words.  She  had  thought  little  about  it  then, 
but  now  she  remembered  that  one  of  the  words  was 
"  Tony."  Tier  father  looked  up  in  surprise  as  Xellie 
paused,  and  clutched  his  arm  more  firmly. 

"  What's  the  matter,  dear  ?  "  he  asked.  "  Are  you 
tired  ?     Perhaps  we  are  walking  too  fast." 


WAITING    AND    SERVING  285 

•"  No,  father,'''  arid  Nellie  gave  a  little  laugh.  "  I  was 
only  thinking,  and  my  thoughts  run  away  with  me 
sometimes.  But  I  am  glad  we  are  almost  home,  for  the 
walking  is  heavy  and  our  shoes  are  covered  with  mud. 
See  that  beautiful  rainbow,  father !  " 

They  both  stood  still  for  a  few  minutes,  and  looked 
upon  the  grand  arch  spanning  the  heavens  and  resting 
upon  earth. 

"  The  bow  of  promise,  Nellie,"  said  Mr.  "Westmore. 
"  It  appears  to-day,  the  same  as  of  old,  to  remind  us 
all  that  '  His  mercies  still  endure,  ever  faithful,  ever 
sure.'  " 

"  Perhaps  it's  a  sign  to  us,  father,  that  our  storm, 
has  past,  and  the  sun  will  break  forth  again." 

"  It  may  be  true,  child.  God  grant  it  so,"  and  ]\Ir. 
Westmore  sighed  as  he  turned  in  at  the  gate  leading  to 
Iris  brother's  house. 


CIIAPTER  XXIX 
RIFTED  CLOUDS 

AGAIN  the  next  day  they  both  visited  the  invalid 
girl.  Nellie  read  to  her,  while  Parson  John 
sat  and  listened.  They  were  becoming  firm 
friends  now,  and  Doris  chatted  unreservedly. 

"  I  shall  tell  papa  all  about  you,"  she  said.  "  I  have 
a  letter  almost  finished,  and  shall  mail  it  to-night.  How 
I  wish  you  could  see  him." 

All  through  the  day  Dan  had  been  much  in  Xellie's 
mind.  The  idea  which  had  come  to  her  the  evening 
before  was  growing  stronger.  She  believed  it  was  Dan 
and  no  other  who  had  rescued  Tony.  It  was  just  like 
him,  and  she  thought  of  the  afternoon  he  had  saved  her 
and  her  cousin  on  the  river.  Should  she  tell  her  father  ? 
That  was  the  question  which  she  debated  with  herself 
hour  after  hour,  and  when  they  returned  from  their 
visit  to  Doris,  she  had  not  yet  decided. 

That  evening  she  strolled  out  of  the  house,  and  down 
the  road  leading  to  a  little  brook.  The  air  was  baling 
and  fresh,  and  this  was  her  favourite  walk.  Trees  lined 
the  way,  stern  old  oaks,  beeches  and  maples — the  grove 
on  her  uncle's  farm,  the  place  where  people  came  for 
miles  to  hold  picnics. 

As  ^Nellie  walked  along  her  thoughts  turned  often  to 
286 


RIFTED    CLOUDS  287 

Glendow.  She  wondered  what  Stephen  was  doing,  and 
if  his  logs  were  rafted.  She  missed  him  greatly.  They 
had  been  so  much  together,  had  grown  up  as  children, 
but  not  until  this  separation  had  she  fully  realized  what 
he  meant  to  her.  She  thought  of  the  night  he  had  come 
to  tell  about  Nora  and  to  say  good-bye.  Her  face 
flushed,  and  a  sweet  peace  came  into  her  heart  as  she 
dwelt  upon  Stephen's  manner  that  night — his  confusion 
— his  stammering  words — and  the  burning  kiss  upon 
her  hand.  She  stood  on  the  little  bridge  now,  in  the 
quiet  dusk  of  even,  leaning  against  the  railing  and 
looking  pensively  down  into  the  shallow  water  below. 
Suddenly  she  raised  her  hand  and  pressed  it  again  and 
again  to  her  lips — the  same  hand  which  Stephen  had 
kissed. 

A  step  upon  the  bridge  startled  her,  and  her  heart 
beat  fast.  Had  anyone  seen  what  she  did  ?  She 
thought  she  was  alone,  but  somebody  was  coming.  She 
turned  away  her  flushed  face,  and  gazed  down  into  the 
water,  leaning  her  arms  upon  the  railing.  The  steps 
drew  nearer.  They  were  opposite  her,  and  soon  they 
would  pass.  Some  neighbour,  no  doubt,  going  home.  If 
he  had  seen  her  action  he  would  tell  others,  and  soon 
every  person  around  would  know.  Presently  the  steps 
,  paused.  The  silence  frightened  her.  It  was  dusk ;  no 
'house  in  sight,  and  she  was  alone.  Quickly  she  faced 
about,  and  there  standing  before  her  was  Stephen.  A 
cry  of  surprise  escaped  her,  and  the  next  instant  she  felt 
his  strong  arms  about  her  and  his  lips  fervently  pressing 
her  own. 


2S8  THE    POUBTH    WATCH 

"  Stephen !  "  she  cried,  struggling  to  free  herself. 
"  How  dare  you  !     "When  did  you  come  ?  " 

"  Just  from  home,  and  was  resting  under  that  big 
tree,"  Stephen  replied  still  hoi. linn-  her  tenderly.  "  I 
dared  much  after  I  saw  what  you  did  a  few  minutes  ago. 
Oh,  Nellie,  Nellie.  I  have  been  waiting  long  for  this 
moment  !     Surely,  surely  you  are  mine  at  last!" 

The  flush  had  left  Nellie's  face  now,  leaving  it  very 
white,  though  in  the  deepening  twilight  this  was  not 
noticeable.  Her  heart  was  beating  tumultuously,  and 
a  new  feeling  of  peace  and  rest  was  stealing  over  her. 
How  powerful  seemed  the  man  standing  there.  So  long 
had  she  been  called  upon  to  be  strong,  always  helping, 
ever  taking  such  a  responsible  place  in  life,  caring  for 
her  father,  strengthening  him  in  his  work — and  upon 
her  he  depended.  But  now  to  feel  that  she  could  give 
herself  up  to  another,  one  who  had  passed  through  a 
stern  fight  in  the  strength  of  his  sturdy  young  manhood, 
and  had  come  forth  as  victor.  Yet  mingling  with  thi3 
new-found  joy  came  the  thought  of  the  dark  shadow 
hanging  over  her  father's  life.  How  could  she  be  happy 
when  he  was  in  trouble?  For  his  sake  she  bad  kept  the 
brave  spirit  and  presented  only  the  bright  sunny  face, 
and  cheery  words  of  hope.  The  tension  for  weeks,  nay 
months,  had  been  a  severe  strain — and  now  this  sudden 
joy!  It  unnerved  her.  "Words  would  not  come  to 
Stephen's  passionate  pleading,  but  in  their  stead  tears 
stole  down  her  cheeks,  while  her  form  trembled  with 
convulsive  sobs. 

Stephen  started  in  surprise. 


RIFTED    CLOUDS  289 

"  Nellie !  Nellie !  "  he  cried.  "  What  have  I  done  ? 
Forgive  me !  I  did  not  mean  to  hurt  you !  I  thought 
you  would  understand.  If  you  only  knew  how  I  love 
you — if  you  only " 

"  I  know  it,  Stephen — I  know  it.  I  am  very  foolish. 
Please  forgive  me.  I  cannot  explain  these  tears — they 
come  unhidden." 

"  Then  you're  not  unhappy,  Nellie  ?  Tou  are  not 
cross  with  me  ?  " 

"  Cross,  dear  Stephen,  no.  I  am  so  happy,  very 
happy.  But  why  should  I  be  happy  when  my  father  is 
in  trouble  ?    How  dare  I !     Is  it  right  %  " 

"  Then  you  love  me,  Xellie !  Oh,  speak  the  word- 
let  me  hear  it  from  your  own  lips !  " 

"  Yes,  Stephen,  I  do  love  you,  don't  you  know  it  ?  I 
am  yours,  your  very  own." 

"  Thank  God !  thank  God !  "  he  cried,  drawing  her 
closer  to  him,  and  kissing  her  again  and  again.  She  did 
not  resist  now,  but  allowed  him  to  hold  her  there  while 
he  breathed  into  her  ear  his  sweet  words  of  love.  They 
were  no  studied,  well-rounded  phrases,  but  such  as 
leaped  from  a  true,  noble  heart,  and  the  woman  listening 
knew  their  worth. 

"  Why  didn't  you  write  to  me,  Stephen  ?  "  Nellie 
whispered,  "  and  tell  me  you  were  coming  ?  I  have  been, 
worried  lately,  and  it  would  have  been  something  to 
look  forward  to." 

"  I  didn't  know  I  was  coming  until  this  morning/' 
came  the  reply. 

"  Didn't  know  \  » 


290  TIIE    FOUKTH    WATCH 

u  No— I  left  in  the  night." 

"  This  is  more  mysterious  than  ever." 

"  Yes,  I  left  very  early  this  morning,  and  should 
have  been  here  by  the  middle  of  the  afternoon,  but 
Dexter  threw  a  shoe  about  live  miles  hack.  I  had  to 
leave  him  at  a  farm,  and  walk  the  remainder  of  the 
way.  I  was  resting  by  the  bridge  when  you  came  along. 
1  was  quite  put  out  to  think  I  had  to  tramp  that  dis- 
tance and  be  so  late.  But  now  I  know  it  was  for  the 
best.     Doesn't  everything  turn  out  right,  Nellie?" 

"  Y-y — es,  some  things  do,"  was  the  reluctant  reply. 
"  This  has,  anyway,  and  I  try  to  believe  that  all  things 
concerning  my  poor  father  will  come  out  right,  too. 
I  think  we  had  better  go  to  him  now  and  tell  him  of 
our  happiness.     It  may  brighten  him  up  a  bit." 

Side  by  side  they  walked  slowly  along  the  road,  and 
Stephen  told  the  whole  story  of  Tony's  return,  the 
hidden  box,  the  political  meeting,  the  discovery  of  the 
gold  in  the  safe,  and  Farrington's  ignominious  punish- 
ment. 

They  had  reached  the  house  by  the  time  he  had 
finished,  and  stood  for  a  moment  on  the  doorstep  before 
entering.  In  Nellie's  heart  was  such  a  joy  that  words 
would  not  come  to  her  lips.  She  felt  she  must  be  asleep, 
and  would  awake  to  find  it  only  an  unsubstantial  dream. 
But  Stephen's  arm  around  her,  and  his  strong  presence 
near,  assured  her  that  it  was  a  blessed  reality. 

They  found  Mr.  Westmore  sitting  alone  in  his  little 
room,  reading  by  the  shaded  lamp.  lie  glanced  quickly 
up  and  was  surprised  to  see  Stephen  standing  by  Nellie's 


KIFTED    CLOUDS  291 

side.  He  saw  the  look  of  rapture  upon  their  faces,  and 
read  at  once  the  meaning  of  it  all,  and  into  his  own 
weary  face  came  a  light  which  Xellie  had  not  seen  in 
many  a  day.  She  tried  to  speak,  but  words  failed,  and 
moving  quickly  forward  she  threw  her  arms  about  her 
father's  neck,  and  kissed  him  fervently. 

"  Oh,  father,  I  am  so  hapiry !  "  she  whispered.  "  Do 
you  know  ?     Can  you  understand  ?  " 

"  Yes,  darling,"  he  replied.  "  I  do  understand. 
Come  near,  Stephen,  my  son,"  and  as  the  young  man 
approached,  he  joined  their  hands,  and  bade  them  to 
kneel  before  him.  Then  stretching  out  his  hand  over 
the  bowed  heads,  and  in  a  voice  trembling  with  emotion, 
he  gave  them  his  benediction.  "  May  the  Lord  bless 
you  and  keep  you,"  he  said.  "  May  the  Lord  make 
His  face  to  shine  upon  you,  and  be  gracious  unto  you, 
and  keep  you  true  to  Him  and  to  each  other  unto  your 
lives'  end." 

Sitting  by  Mr.  "Westmore's  side  that  evening,  Stephen 
told  the  story  he  had  recently  related  to  jSTellie.  Parson 
John  sat  straight  upright  in  his  chair,  and  his  eyes 
never  once  left  Stephen  s  face. 

"  And  do  you  tell  me !  "  he  cried,  when  the  latter 
ceased,  "  that  Dan  is  injured — lying  unconscious  ?  " 

"  He  was  when  Tony  left." 

"  Poor  dear  boy !  and  he  did  it  all  for  me !  "  mur- 
mured the  parson.  "  What  a  sacrifice  to  make  of  his 
bright  young  life !  I  must  go  to  him,  Xellie,  at  once ! 
In  the  morning!     Poor  Dan!  Poor  Dan!  " 

Thus  the  three  sat  for  some  time  talking  of  the 


292  TIIE    FOURTH    WATCH 

accident  and  planning  for  the  journey.  Not  once  did 
Mr.  Westmore  speak  about  the  recovery  of  the  gold,  but 
that  night  in  the  quietness  of  his  own  room  he  poured 
out  his  soul,  in  a  great,  fervent  prayer  of  thankfulness 
to  the  Father  above,  and  also  he  sought  ITis  aid  on  behalf 
of  a  little  wounded  lad  lying  on  a  bed  of  pain  in  a 
farm-house  miles  away. 


CHAPTEE  XXX 
BENEATH  THE  SURFACE 

ACROSS  the  month  of  Big  Creek  stream  a  long 
double  boom  cradled  the  large  "  R  &  P  "  drive. 
The  last  log  had  shot  safely  down  the  crooked 
brook  and  rested  calmly  by  the  side  of  its  companions. 
There  were  thousands  of  them  there,  scarred  and  bat- 
tered by  rock  and  flood ;  worthy  veterans  were  they,  this 
hardy  army  of  the  forest,  reposing  now  after  their  fierce, 
mad  charge. 

The  work  of  the  drivers  was  done,  and  the  last  peevy 
had  been  tossed  with  a  resounding  thud  among  its  com-- 
panions.  A  score  of  men  were  they  who  for  months  had 
been  confined  to  the  lonely  life  of  the  woods,  and  who  for 
days  had  often  been  face  to  face  with  death.  Xaturally 
their  eyes  turned  towards  the  river  some  distance  away. 
There  on  its  bank  nestled  the  little  town,  and  there,  too, 
stood  the  Flood  Gate  Tavern,  the  most  notorious  place 
in  the  whole  countryside.  How  often  during  the  winter 
evenings  had  they  talked  of  the  many  wild  scenes  which 
had  been  enacted  there,  and  of  the  wages  of  months 
squandered  in  a  night.  Though  they  talked  about  the 
place  and  cursed  it,  yet,  like  moths  singed  by  the  candle's 
flame,  they  had  returned  spring  after  spring  to  the 
Flood  Gate  Tavern  to  spend  the  wages  needed  at  home. 

293 


294  THE    FOURTH    WATCH 

Their  money,  too,  was  awaiting  them  there  in  the  Com- 
pany's office.  Cut  now  they  hesitated.  Xever  before 
had  such  a  thing  been  known.  Formerly  there  was  a 
rush  to  the  town  when  the  last  log  had  come  in. 

It  was  evening  as  the  men  stood  there,  and  the  sun 
was  hanging  low  far  in  the  west.  The  yearning  for  the 
tavern  was  strong — it  called,  it  appealed  to  them.  But 
another  power  was  holding  these  rugged  drivers  in 
check.  Their  hearts  had  been  much  stirred  these  last 
few  days,  although  not  one  acknowledged  it.  A  little 
helpless,  suffering  child  was  unconsciously  restraining 
the  brute  nature  within  them.  He  was  holding  them  in 
leash,  binding  them  by  strange,  invisible  cords.  In 
silence  they  ate  their  supper  in  the  rafting  house 
near  by. 

"  Boys,"  said  Jake  P'urdy  as  the  men  sat  outside 
smoking.  "  I'm  goin'  down  town  to  see  if  there's  any 
mail.     Any  of  ye  comin'  ?  " 

It  was  all  that  was  needed,  and  at  once  every  man 
responded.  Down  the  road  they  marched,  their  great 
boots  making  a  heavy  thud  as  they  moved  along.  Into 
the  post  office  they  tramped,  and  stood  around  while  the 
few  letters  were  doled  out.  For  Jake,  there  was  one, 
written  by  a  child's  trembling  hand.  Eagerly  he  opened 
it,  and,  as  he  read,  his  face  underwent  a  remarkable 
change.  The  rugged  lines  softened,  and  when  he  turned 
to  the  men  waiting  for  him,  there  was  no  gruffness  in  his 
voice. 

"  'Spose  we  git  our  money,  lads,  an'  hike  back,"  he 
remarked. 


BEXEATH  THE  SURFACE     295; 

'"  Ay,  ay,"  was  tlie  response,  but  in  several  hearts 
there  was  a  keen  longing  to  remain. 

Eight  in  front  of  the  Company's  office  stood  the 
Flood  Gate  Tavern.  The  proprietor  had  been  expecting 
the  drivers  and  was  well  stocked  np.  He  saw  them  com- 
ing into  town  and  watched  them  enter  the  office  for  their 
money. 

"  They'll  be  here  soon,  Joe,"  he  said  to  his  assistant, 
"  an'  mind  ye  don't  let  an  opportunity  slip.  Them 
bottles  must  go  to-night.    I  know  there'll  be  lively  times 

about  here.    Them  d n  temperance  workers  are  dead 

set  agin  us,  an'  it  looks  as  if  they'd  make  trouble.    But 

we'll  win  out  to-night,  and  they  can  go  to .     Say, 

here  they  come.  Now  for  the  time — an'  money.  Oh, 
they're  jist  achin'  to  give  me  their  wages.  They  won't 
forgit  old  Xed,  that's  sure.  Ha,  ha !  "  and  the  saloon- 
keeper rubbed  his  hands  with  glee. 

The  drivers  were  outside  the  office  now,  and  were 
casting  furtive  glances  across  the  way.  Big  Jake  saw 
the  looks  and  knew  the  longing  which  dwelt  in  their 
hearts.  He  drew  forth  his  pipe,  stuck  his  little  finger 
deliberately  into  the  bowl  to  see  how  much  tobacco  it 
contained. 

"  Boys,"  he  began,  "  have  yez  anything  on  fer  the 
night  ?  " 

"  Xo,"  came  the  somewhat  surly  response,  "  unless 
we  go  over  there." 

"  Don't  go,"  said  Jake.  "  "We've  spent  too  much 
there  in  past  years.  Let's  save  our  money  fer  them 
wot   needs   it   at   home.     Let   me   tell   ye    somethin'. 


296  THE    FOURTH    WATCH 

Comin'  clown  the  road  from  the  boom  to-night  I  felt  like 
seven  devils.  I  was  jist  longin'  to  git  into  that  saloon 
an'  have  a  big  drink.  But  as  luck  'ud  have  it  I  vent 
into  the  post  office  first,  an'  found  this  here  letter.  An' 
who  is  it  from,  d'ye  think  ?  From  me  own  little  sick 
lassie  at  home.  Look  at  the  writin',  boys.  Ain't  it  fine  ? 
An'  what  a  letter  it  is.  She  says  she's  wait-in'  fer  me, 
an'  counts  the  days  until  I  come.  Listen  to  these  words: 
'  Don't  go  near  the  saloon,  papa.  Come  straight  home, 
an'  bring  the  money  to  pay  fer  the  farm.  I  pray  fer 
you  every  day,  papa,  an'  I  pray  fer  all  the  men  on  the 
drive,  and  fer  that  poor  little  boy  who  got  hurt.'  Ain't 
them  great  words,  boys  ?  " 

"  Ay,  ay,"  came  the  reply,  and  into  several  hearts 
throbbed  a  desire  to  be  stronger  men,  and  a  few  brushed 
their  sleeves  across  their  eyes. 

"  But  that  ain't  all,"  Jake  continued.  "  She  says 
that  little  boy  wot  got  hurt  belongs  to  an  old  man — a 
parson — an'  his  beautiful  daughter,  who  have  been  good 
to  her.  They  didn't  know  where  the  little  boy  was,  but 
when  they  found  out  they  was  all  upsot,  an'  left  in  a 
hurry,  but  stopped  in  to  say  good-bye  to  my  little  Doris. 
That  was  two  days  ago,  and  they  must  be  up  there  at 
Big  Sam's  now.  Boys,  let  me  tell  ye  this:  Anyone 
who  is  good  to  my  little  sick  lass  is  good  to  me,  an'  Jake 
Purdy  isn't  a  man  to  fergit ;  yez  know  that.  !N"ow  I 
have  a  suggestion  to  make.  Instead  of  spendin'  our 
hard-earned  money  with  that  old  wretch,  Xed,  let's  go 
up  in  a  body  to  the  house  an'  inquire  fer  the  sick  lad. 
We  can't  do  nuthin',  I  know,  but  mebbe  it'll  please  the 


BENEATH  THE  SURFACE     297 

old  man  an'  his  daughter  to  know  that  we  ain't  fergotten 
the  brave  little  boy.  An'  come  to  think  further  it's  no 
mor'n  our  duty.  That  lad  saved  one  of  us  from  death, 
an'  the  one  that  was  saved,  saved  me.  Boys,  ye  can  do 
as  yez  like,  but  I'm  goin'  anyway," 

There  was  no  hesitation  now  among  these  men.  With 
one  accord  they  turned  their  backs  upon  the  village,  and 
struck  along  the  road  leading  out  into  the  country. 
Old  Ned,  the  saloon-keeper,  watched  them  in  amaze- 
ment. Never  before  had  they  done  such  a  thing.  What 
would  become  of  all  the  whisky  in  those  bottles  standing 
on  the  shelves  ? 

"  The  idiots !  "  he  yelled.  "  What's  the  matter  with 
'em  ?  " 

Bareheaded  he  rushed  out  into  the  street  and  lifted 
up  his  voice. 

"  Hi !  hi !  "  he  shouted. 

The  drivers  paused  and  looked  around. 

"  Wait !  "  panted  Ned  running  up  to  where  they  were 
standing. 

"  What's  wrong,  old  man  ?  "  questioned  one. 

"  Wrong !  What's  wrong  with  you  %  Why  are  ye 
leavin'  without  droppin'  in  to  see  me  ?  Surely  ye  ain't 
goin'  to  go  away  without  a  friendly  call  ?  " 

"  Look  here,  Ned,"  replied  Jake,  acting  as  spokesman 
for  the  others,  "  we've  made  too  many  friendly  calls  at 
your  place  fer  our  own  good.  This  year  we're  goin'  to 
cut  it  out.     So  go  home  an'  don't  interfere." 

Had  the  saloon-keeper  been  less  excited  he  would 
have  noticed  the  warning  note  in  Jake's  voice,  and  the 


29S  THE    FOURTH    WATCH 

sombre  looks  of  the  rest.  They  wore  in  no  mood  for 
interruption  at  the  present  time.  But  Xed  was  blind 
to  all  this. 

"  Ye  fools !  "  he  roared,  stamping  on  the  ground  in  his 
rage.  "  Will  ye  let  all  that  good  stuff  spile  down 
yonder?  Surely  ye  ain't  nunc  an'  jined  the  temperance 
gang,  an'  took  the  pledge?" 

Fiercely  Jake  turned  upon  him. 

"  Ned,"  and  his  voice  was  laden  with  meaning,  "  will 
ye  go  home  an'  leave  us  alone  1  " 

"  Xo,  h if  I  will,  unless  ye  all  come  back  with 

me." 

Jake's  eyes  turned  suddenly  to  the  right.  They  rested 
upon  a  pond  of  dirty  water  several  feet  deep  lying  there. 
Like  a  flash  he  reached  out  and  caught  the  saloon-keeper 
in  both  hands,  lifted  him  clear  of  the  ground,  carried 
him  wriggling  and  cursing  to  the  edge,  and  tossed  him 
in  like  a  ball.  "With  a  splash  and  a  yell  Xed  went  under, 
came  up  puffing  and  blowing,  and  dashing  the  water 
from  his  eyes  and  ears.  A  shout  of  derision  went  up 
from  the  drivers. 

"Go  home  now,  Xed,"  they  cried.  "  You've  soaked 
us  fer  years  with  yer  stuff,  an'  you've  got  soaked  now. 
Good-bye." 

With  that  they  continued  on  their  way,  leaving  the 
victim  to  scramble  out  of  the  pond  and  make  his  way 
home,  beaten  and  crestfallen. 

Along  the  road  the  drivers  marched,  then  up  the  hill 
leading  to  Big  Sam's  abode.  It  was  dim  twilight  as 
they  stood  before  the  house.     The  evening  was  balmy, 


BENEATH  THE  SURFACE     299 

and  the  front  door  stood  partly  open.  For  a  min- 
ute they  hesitated,  and  a  whispered  conversation 
ensued. 

"  You  go  in,  Jake.  You've  got  a  tongue  fer  sich 
things,"  suggested  his  companions. 

But  before  a  reply  could  be  made  there  floated  out 
upon  the  air  a  sweet  voice  singing  an  old  familiar  hymn. 
Instinctively  every  driver  pulled  off  his  rough  hat,  and 
bowed  his  shaggy  head.  It  was  a  woman's  voice  they 
heard,  low  and  tender.  There  was  a  pleading  note  in 
the  singer's  voice — the  cry  of  a  soul  for  help  in  trouble. 

Little  did  Nellie  realize  as  she  sat  by  Dan's  side  this 
evening,  and  sang,  that  she  had  such  attentive  listeners. 
The  past  two  days  had  been  a  time  of  much  anxiety. 
When  first  she  and  her  father  had  arrived,  Dan  did  not 
know  them.  He  was  lying  upon  the  bed,  his  little  curly 
head  resting  upon  the  pillow  as  white  as  his  own  white 
face.  Would  he  ever  come  out  of  that  stupor  ?  they 
asked  each  other  time  and  time  again  as  they  sat  and 
watched  him.  Often  he  talked,  calling  aloud  for  help, 
and  pleading  for  someone  to  hurry.  Now  it  was  of 
Tony  and  again  Nellie  and  Parson  John.  Occasionally 
he  mentioned  his  father,  and  asked  why  he  was  so  long 
in  coming.  The  doctor  stood  by  the  bedside  with  an 
anxious  face. 

"  Do  you  think  he  will  recover  ?  "  Nellie  asked. 

"  I  can't  say,"  was  the  reply.  "  He  has  been  badly 
injured.  But  we  should  know  soon  one  way  or  the 
other.    This  condition  can't  go  on  much  longer." 

It  was  hard  for  Nellie  to  persuade  her  father  to  take 


300  THE    FOURTH    WATCH 

any  rest.  lie  would  insist  upon  sitting  by  the  bed,  and 
holding  Dan's  hand. 

"  Poor,  dear  boy,"  be  murmured.  "  Why  did  you 
do  it  ?    Why  did  you  run  such  a  risk  for  my  sake?  " 

Once  coming  quietly  into  tbe  room  Xellic  saw  her 
father  kneeling  by  the  bedside.  His  lips  were  moving 
in  silent  prayer.  In  his  heart  a  deep  love  had  been 
formed  for  this  little  wounded  lad.  For  months  past 
the  tAvo  had  been  much  together,  and  the  bond  of 
affection  had  been  strongly  formed.  At  length  Nellie 
had  persuaded  her  father  to  take  some  rest.  lie  had 
east  one  long,  searching  look  upon  the  boy's  face,  and 
then  silently  left  the  room.  For  some  time  Xellie  sat 
by  Dan's  side  watching  his  fitful  breathing.  One  little 
hand  lay  outside  the  quilt.  "Would  it  ever  work  for  her 
again  \  she  wondered.  It  was  a  brown  hand — the  same 
hand  which  had  reached  over  and  drawn  Tony  from 
death.  As  she  sat  there  the  door  was  quietly  pushed 
open,  and  Marion  stood  before  her.  Her  eyes  looked 
towards  the  bed  with  a  questioning  appeal.  In  her 
right  hand  she  clutched  a  little  rose.  It  was  the  first 
time  she  had  been  in  the  sick  room,  and  on  this  evening 
while  her  mother  was  busy  she  had  softly  stolen  away. 

"  Give  dis  to  ittle  sick  boy/'  she  said.  "  He  like 
pitty  woses." 

"  Come  here,  dear,"  Xellie  replied,  and  as  the  child 
approached  she  took  the  flower,  and  placed  the  stem  in 
Dan's  doubled-up  hand.  She  did  it  merely  to  please 
Marion,  but  it  thrilled  her  own  heart  to  behold  the  little 
maiden's  sweet  offering  lying  in  that  poor,  nerveless  fist. 


BENEATH  THE  SURFACE     301 

"  God  bless  you,  darling/'  she  said,  drawing  Marion  tc- 
her.     "  You  love  the  sick  boj,  don't  you  ?  " 

"  Me  love  him,"  came  the  response,  "  an'  me  lore  oo. 
Will  Dod  make  him  better  ?  " 

"  God  will  do  what  is  best,  dearie.  You  will  pray 
for  him,  won't  you  \  " 

"  Me  pray  for  him  every  night.  Will  oo  sing  to  Dod 
to  make  him  better  %  " 

"  Why  do  you  wish  me  to  sing  ?  " 

"  When  I'm  sick  my  mamma  sings  to  Dod.  I  fink  He 
hears  better  dat  way,  an'  I  det  better.     Will  oo  sing  %  " 

"  If  you  wish  me  to,  I  will." 

"  Let  me  det  in  oor  lap  den,"  and  Marion,  climbing 
up,  made  herself  perfectly  at  home. 

Nellie  was  not  in  a  singing  mood  this  evening,  but 
the  child's  words  had  touched  her.  She  thought  they 
were  alone — just  two,  to  hear.  Verse  after  verses  she 
sang,  and  as  she  reached  the  chorus  of  the  last  verse  she 
gave  a  start  of  surprise,  suddenly  ceased,  and  looked  to- 
wards the  door.  A  number  of  men's  voices  had  taken 
up  the  chorus,  and  they  were  singing,  not  loud,  but  as 
softly  as  possible: 

"  Safe  in  the  arms  of  Jesus, 
Safe  on  His  gentle  breast, 
There  by  His  love  o'ershadowed 
Sweetly  my  soul  shall  rest." 

Nellie  had  put  Marion  down  now,  had  risen  to  her 
feet,  and  crossed  the  room  to  the  door.     Almost  uncon- 


302  THE    FOURTH    WATCH 

Bciously  the  drivers  had  joined  in  that  chorus.  They 
had  forgotten  how  it  would  startle  the  sweet  singer,  and 
when  they  saw  Xellie  standing  in  the  doorway  they 
were  much  abashed.  They  felt  like  a  group  of  school- 
boys caught  in  some  act  of  mischief,  and  they  longed  to 
get  away. 

As  Nellie  looked  upon  them,  a  bright  smile  illumined 
her  face.  She  surmised  the  purpose  of  their  visit,  and 
it  pleased  her. 

"  Thank  you  for  that  chorus,"  she  said,  hardly  know- 
ing what  else  to  say.     "  I  didn't  know  you  were  here." 

"Pardon  us,  miss,"  Jake  replied,  stepping  forward. 
"  It  wasn't  fair  of  us  to  be  standin'  here  listenin'.  But 
we  couldn't  help  it.  An'  when  ye  sang  that  old  hymn 
it  jist  melted  us  down.  We  come  to  inquire  about  the 
boy.    Mebbe  ye'd  tell  us  how  he's  gettin'  along." 

"  There's  no  change  as  yet,  that  we  can  see,"  Xellie 
replied.  "  But  the  doctor  says  it  must  come  soon  one 
way  or  the  other.  Would  you  like  to  see  him  ?  If  you 
come  in  one  at  a  time,  I  don't  think  it  will  do  any 
harm." 

Without  a  word  Jake  followed  her  into  the  room, 
and  stood  with  his  hat  in  his  hand  looking  down  upon 
the  bed. 

"  Toor    little    chap,"    he    whispered.     "  Ain't    it    a 

pity?" 

Hardly  had  he  ceased  speaking  when  Dan  suddenly 
opened  his  eyes  and  looked  about  him  in  a  dazed 
manner. 

"  Where — where's  my  rose  ?  "  he  cried. 


BEXEATH  THE  SURFACE     S03 

!Nellie  was  by  his  side  in  an  instant. 

"Here,  Dan,"  and  she  lifted  up  the  flower  so  he 
could  see  it.     "Hush  now,  don't  speak." 

Dan  gave  a  sigh  of  relief.  He  looked  wearily 
around,  then  his  eves  slowly  closed,  and  he  passed  into 
a  gentle  sleep.  A  step  was  heard  in  the  room,  and  the 
doctor  stood  by  the  bed. 

"  When  did  the  change  take  place  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Just  now,"  Nellie  replied  in  a  low  voice. 

"  It  is  well.  The  crisis  is  past.  He  must  have  per- 
fect quietness.     TVe'll  pull  him  through  now,  for  sure." 

Jake  waited  to  hear  no  more.  He  stole  from  the 
house,  and  motioned  to  his  companions.  Silently  they 
moved  away  and  strode  back  to  the  camp.  They  were 
rough  men  outwardly,  this  score  of  river  drivers,  but  a 
glimpse  had  been  seen  beneath  the  surface.  Their 
hearts  had  been  stirred  as  never  before,  and  they  were 
not  ashamed. 


CHAPTEE  XXXI 
LIGHT   AT   EVENTIDE 

IT  was  a  bright  buoyant  day,  with  scarcely  a  cloud  to 
be  seen.  Not  a  breath  of  wind  stirred  the  air,  and 
every  nimble  leaf  was  still.  The  river  flowed  on 
its  way,  its  glassy  surface  mirroring  the  numerous  trees 
along  its  banks.  Across  the  fields,  fresh  with  the  young 
green  grass,  came  the  sweet  incense  wafted  up  from 
countless  early  flowers. 

Several  people  stood  before  the  Rectory,  beneath  the 
shade  of  a  largo  horse-chestnut  tree.  Their  eyes  were 
turned  up  the  road  with  an  eager,  watchful  expression. 
Across  the  gateway  a  rude  arch  had  been  formed,  and 
upon  it  the  words  "  Welcome  Home  "  in  large  white 
letters  had  been  painted,  while  evergreens  and  leaves 
lavishly  decorated  the  whole.  It  was  Glendow's  prep- 
aration for  the  return  of  their  absent  Rector  and  his 
daughter. 

Numerous  changes  had  taken  place  since  the  night 
on  which  the  gold  had  been  found  in  the  safe.  The 
store  was  now  closed  and  the  Farringtons  had  departed. 
There  had  been  many  threats  made  by  the  defeated 
storekeeper,  but  they  amounted  to  nothing.  Glendow 
had  been  aroused,  and  the  one  desire  which  filled  all 
hearts  was  to  have  their  old  Rector  back  again.     They 

304 


LIGHT    AT    EVENTIDE  305 

realized  as  never  before  the  sterling  character  of  the 
man  they  had  suspected,  and  what  a  true  friend  they 
had  lost.  Dan's  accident  soon  reached  their  ears,  and 
all  breathed  a  prayer  of  thankfulness  when  news 
arrived  of  his  recovery.  Nothing  short  of  a  reception 
must  take  place,  and  so  now  more  than  threescore 
people,  old  and  young,  stood  anxiously  awaiting  the 
arrival. 

"  There  they  come,"  shouted  one,  and  far  up  the  road 
a  cloud  of  dust  could  be  seen,  and  soon  a  carriage  was 
observed  bowling  along,  containing  Parson  John,  Nellie 
and  Dan. 

Their  eyes  opened  wide  with  amazement  as  they  drew 
near,  saw  the  cheering  crowd,  and  drove  beneath  the 
overhanging  arch.  Silently  they  alighted  and  grasped 
the  numerous  outstretched  hands.  The  past  was  for- 
gotten in  the  joy  of  the  present,  and  the  shepherd  and 
his  flock  were  once  again  united. 

"  It  all  seems  like  a  wonderful  dream,"  said  Parson 
John  to  Nellie  as  they  sat  that  evening  together  after 
the  others  had  departed.  "  We  went  out  as  culprits,  with 
only  a  few  to  bid  us  good-bye,  and  now  we  come  home 
to  the  love  of  our  people.  Surely  the  Lord  has  been 
good  to  us,  and  has  led  us  by  ways  that  we  knew  not. 
Truly  His  ways  are  not  our  ways,  and  He  does  all 
things  well." 

Dan  speedily  recovered  his  former  strength  and  his 
old-time  spirit.  He  was  like  a  new  lad.  The  weight 
which  had  pressed  upon  him  so  long  had  been  removed. 
He  felt  he  was  no  longer  a  sponger,  a  useless  being. 


306  THE    FOURTH    WATCH 

His  longing  to  read  and  write  increased,  and  as  the  days 
passed  be  made  rapid  progress.  3.1  r.  Westmore  loved 
to  have  the  boy  by  his  side  and  would  often  read  to 
him,  and  Dan  would  always  listen  with  deep  wonder. 
Xew  fields  of  knowledge  were  being  gradually  opened 
of  which  he  knew  nothing. 

"  When  I  grow  to  be  a  big  man  will  I  know  all  about 
those  things?  "  be  one  day  asked,  when  Mr.  "Westmore 
had  been  reading  to  him  from  an  interesting  book  of 
History. 

"  That  all  rests  with  yourself,  Dan,"  was  the  reply. 
"  If  you  want  to  know,  you  can.  But  it  will  mean  hard 
work.     There  is  no  royal  road  to  learning." 

"  Then  I'm  going  to  learn,"  Dan  emphatically  re- 
sponded, and  from  that  day  Mr.  Westmore  began  to 
plan  for  the  boy's  future  as  he  had  never  done  before. 

One  evening  about  sundown,  several  weeks  later, 
Xellie  and  her  father  were  sitting  on  the  veranda.  It 
was  a  sultry  night,  and  far  in  the  distance  faint  rum- 
blings of  thunder  could  be  heard. 

"  A  storm  is  coming,"  Xellie  remarked.  "  I  hope 
!\Ir.  Larkins  will  get  back  from  the  office  before,  it 
reaches  us." 

Hardly  had  she  spoken  ere  a  step  sounded  upon  the 
gravel  walk  and  Mr.  Larkins  appeared. 

"  We  were  just  speaking  about  you,"  Xellie  ex- 
claimed, and  now  you  are  here." 

"  You  know  the  old  saying,"  he  laughingly  replied. 

"  Have  a  seat,  do,"  and  Mr.  Westmore  pushed  for- 
ward a  rustic  chair. 


LIGHT    AT    EVENTIDE  307 

11  No,  thank  you,  I  have  some  chores  to  do  "before  the 
storm  breaks.  Here  is  jour  mail.  Several  papers  and 
only  one  letter." 

"  It's  from  my  boy  out  west,"  Mr.  "Westmore  re- 
marked after  Mr.  Larkins  had  gone.  "  We've  had  little 
news  from  him  lately.     I  hope  nothing's  wrong." 

His  hand  trembled  slightly  as  he  ojDened  the  letter 
and  unfolded  several  sheets  of  paper  within.  Nellie 
picked  up  one  of  the  papers,  a  daily  from  the  city,  and 
was  soon  engrossed  in  its  pages.  An  exclamation  from 
her  father  caused  her  to  look  quickly  up.  The  expres- 
sion on  his  face  was  one  of  joy.  It  was  that  of  a  man 
from  whom  a  heavy  burden  of  care  has  been  unex- 
pectedly lifted. 

"  Nellie,  Nellie !  "  he  cried.  "  Good  news  from 
Philip  !  He's  won  his  case !  The  mine  is  ours  beyond 
dispute,  and  it  is  far  richer  than  was  at  first  believed. 
Bead  it  for  yourself,"  and  he  eagerly  thrust  the  letter 
into  her  hand. 

Trembling  with  excitement  Nellie  did  as  she  was 
commanded.  The  first  part  of  the  letter  told  about  the 
long,  stern  fight  which  had  been  made,  and  of  the  victory 
which  had  been  won. 

"  You  little  know,  father  dear,"  Philip  wrote  in  con- 
clusion, "  what  this  will  mean  to  us  all.  Upon  my 
suggestion  you  invested  your  all  in  this  mine,  and  at 
one  time  it  looked  as  if  we  would  lose  everything.  But 
now  all  that  is  changed.  I  am  a  rich  man  to-day  and 
you  will  no  longer  want  for  anything.  Your  invest- 
ment will  be  increased  a  hundredfold,  and  vou  will 


308  THE    FOURTH    WATCH 

make  more  in  one  year  than  yon  have  made  in  jour 
■whole  life.  As  soon  as  I  get  matters  in  a  sottled  condi- 
tion I  hope  to  come  home  for  a  short  visit,  and  then  I 
shall  be  able  to  tell  you  everything  in  detail." 

For  some  time  Xellie  held  the  letter  silently  in  her 
baud.  Her  father  was  sitting  near  with  a  far-away 
look  in  his  eyes.  Gone  were  time  and  place.  He  was 
thinking  of  the  day  he  had  bidden  Philip  good-bye.  lie 
saw  the  mother  clasping  her  only  son  to  hor  heart,  and 
it  was  the  last  good-bye.  What  hopes  and  fears  had 
been  theirs  concerning  their  absent  boy.  What  struggles 
had  been  his  out  in  the  great  busy  world,  and  how 
often  had  his  home  letters  been  weighted  with  despair. 
Many  and  many  a  night  had  they  knelt  together  and 
lifted  up  their  voices  in  prayer  on  Philip's  behalf.  Xow 
she  was  gone.  Oh,  to  have  her  there  by  his  side  to  share 
hi;-  joy!  A  mistiness  rose  before  his  eyes,  and  several 
tears  stole  down  his  furrowed  checks.  Hastily  he  drew 
forth  his  handkerchief  and  brushed  them  away.  Xcllie 
noticed  his  embarrassed  manner,  and  surmised  the 
cause.  Going  over  to  where  he  was  sitting  she  put  her 
arms  about  his  neck  and  gave  him  a  loving  kiss. 

"  You  have  me,  father  dear,"  she  said,  "  and  nothing 
but  death  can  separate  us." 

"  I  know  it,  darling.  I  know  it,"  was  the  reply. 
"  I  am  somewhat  unsettled  to-night.  This  news  is  so 
sudden.  To  think  that  Philip  has  conquered !  Xow 
you  shall  have  many  comforts  which  have  been  denied 
you  so  long." 

"  Don't  say  that,  father  dear.     What  comforts  have 


LIGHT    AT    EVENTIDE  309 

been  denied  me  ?  My  whole  life  has  been  surrounded 
by  love.  We  have  our  little  home  here,  with  books  and 
music  in  the  winter,  and  the  sweet  flowers  and  birds  in 
the  summer.  Does  not  happiness,  father,  consist  in 
enjoying  the  good  things  around  us  ?  Not  for  my  sake 
am  I  glad  that  this  good  fortune  has  come,  but  for 
yours.  If  Philip  is  correct,  and  we  are  to  have  more 
money  than  ever  before,  you  will  be  able  to  rest  and 
enjoy  life  to  the  full." 

"  Nellie,  Nellie  !  What  do  you  mean  ?  Do  I  under- 
stand you  aright  ?  Do  you  wish  me  to  give  up  my 
work  ? " 

"  But  you  need  rest,  father.  Tou  have  laboured  so 
long,  surely  you  can  afford  to  let  someone  else  do  it 
now." 

"  No,  no.  The  Lord  needs  me  yet.  There  is  much 
work  for  me  to  do.  Life  to  me  is  in  ministering  to 
others.  During  those  long  days  at  3,Iorristown,  when 
that  cloud  overshadowed  us,  how  wretched  was  my  life. 
Nothing  to  do — only  to  sit  with  folded  hands  while 
others  waited  upon  me.  I  shudder  when  I  think  of  that 
time.  No,  let  me  be  up  and  doing,  and  God  grant  I  may 
die  in  harness,  and  not  rust  out  in  miserable  disuse." 

"  But  you  should  have  an  assistant,  father,"  Nellie 
suggested,  "  and  he  can  give  you  great  help." 

"  I  have  been  thinking  of  that,  dear.  It  seems  now 
as  if  one  great  wish  of  my  life  is  to  be  granted.  I  have 
always  longed  to  give  several  years  to  God's  service, 
without  being  chargeable  to  any  one.  Oh,  to  go  among 
my  people,  to  comfort  them,  not  as  a  servant,  a  hireling 


310  TIIE    FOURTH    WATCH 

paid  to  do  such  things,  but  as  a  shepherd  who  loves  his 
flock,  and  whose  reward  is  in  doing  the  Master's  work, 
for  the  good  of  others.  The  people  may  pay  the 
assistant,  but  not  me.  I  wish  to  he  free,  free  for  God's 
service." 

Footsteps  were  now  heard  approaching,  and  in  a 
minute  more  Stephen  stood  before  them.  The  flush 
of  joy  that  suffused  iSTellie's  face  told  of  the  happiness 
in  her  heart. 

"  Welcome,  Stephen,  my  son,"  said  Parson  John, 
reaching  out  his  hand.  "  Your  visit  is  timely  when 
our  cup  of  joy  is  full  to  the  brim  and  running  over.  "We 
have  not  seen  you  for  two  whole  days.  Where  have  you 
kept  yourself  ?  " 

"  Why,  Stephen  has  been  to  the  city,"  was  Xellie's 
laughing  response.  "  Didn't  I  tell  you  how  he  had 
gone  with  his  logs  ?  " 

"  Dear  me,  so  you  did.  How  stupid  of  me  to  for- 
get."  ^ 

"  Yes,"  said  Stephen,  "  my  winter's  work  is  all 
settled  and  I  have  come  now  to  make  the  first  payment 
on  the  farm.  There  it  is.  Please  count  it,"  and  the 
young  man  placed  a  bulky  envelope  into  his  Rector's 
hand.  "  That  is  a  token  of  my  new  life,  and  with  God's 
help  it  shall  continue." 

For  several  minutes  Mr.  Westmore  held  the  package 
in  his  hand  without  once  looking  upon  it. 

"  Sit  down,  Stephen,"  he  at  length  commanded.  "  I 
have  something  to  say — to  you — and  I  feel  I  can  say  it 
now  with  a  clear  conscience.     Since  the  day  I  paid  the 


LIGHT    AT    EVENTIDE  311 

four  thousand  dollars  for  your  homestead,  people  have 
been  wondering  where  I  obtained  the  money,  and  they 
certainly  had  good  reason  to  wonder.  They  knew  I  had 
invested  all  I  could  gather  together  in  that  mine  in 
British  Columbia,  and  that  I  could  pay  down  such  an 
amount  was  very  puzzling.  It  is  only  right  that  you 
and  Nellie  should  hear  the  truth  from  my  own  lips. 
You  well  know,"  he  continued  after  a  pause,  "  that 
your  father  was  a  very  dear  friend  of  mine.  We  had 
grown  up  as  boys  together.  "We  knew  each  other's 
affairs  intimately,  and  we  often  discussed  the  future. 
Your  father  made  considerable  money,  and  had  a  fairly 
large  bank  account.  One  day  he  came  to  me — only 
several  months  before  his  death — and  we  had  a  most 
serious  talk  together.  He  seemed  to  have  some  premoni- 
tion that  he  would  not  be  much  longer  upon  earth, 
and  was  most  anxious  that  I  should  consent  to  a  plan 
which  he  had  in  his  mind.  He  was  fearful  lest  after 
his  death  something  should  go  wrong.  He  knew  what 
a  headstrong  lad  you  were,  Stephen,  and  what  a  tempta- 
tion it  would  be  to  spend  recklessly  his  hard-earned 
money.  He  therefore  wished  me  to  act  as  trustee,  with 
another  firm  friend  who  is  living  in  the  city,  and  to 
place  in  the  bank  in  our  names  the  sum  of  six  thousand 
dollars.  This  was  to  be  left  there,  unknown  to  others, 
until  you  proved  yourself  to  be  a  man  in  every  sense  of 
the  word.  In  case  of  disaster  or  trouble  we  were  to  use 
the  money  at  our  discretion  for  the  welfare  of  the 
family  and  not  to  allow  your  mother  or  sister  to  come 
to  want.     That,  in  brief,  is  the  substance  of  the  plan. 


312  THE    FOURTH    WATCH 

At  first  I  did  not  feel  like  undertaking  such  a  re- 
sponsibility. But  your  father  was  so  insistent  I  at  last 
consented.  I  need  hardly  tell  you  the  rest,  for  you 
know  it  already.  I  could  not,  in  justice  to  your  father's 
express  wish,  divulge  the  secret  until  I  was  sure  that 
you  had  taken  a  firm  grip  of  life.  You  needed  to  he 
tested,  to  pass  through  the  fire.  Now  I  know  you  can 
he  depended  upon,  and  so  I  give  you  hack  this  money, 
Keep  it;  it  is  yours,  and  may  God  bless  you.  Part  of 
the  balance  which  remained  in  the  bank  we  used  on 
Xora  with  such  splendid  results.  The  rest  shall  be 
handed  over  to  your  mother,  and  I  shall  thus  be  re- 
lieved of  all  responsibility.  Will  that  be  satisfactory  to 
you  ?  " 

]\rr.  Westmore  ceased,  and  held  forth  the  envelope. 
Stephen  had  risen  now  and  was  standing  erect.  His 
hands  remained  clasped  before  him. 

"  Take  it,"  said  the  parson. 

"  No,"  was  the  reply,  "  I  cannot." 

"  You  cannot  ?     It  is  yours  !  " 

"  Yes,  I  know  that.  But  remember,  I  have  under- 
taken to  pay  back  that  four  thousand  dollars.  Through 
my  recklessness  I  made  it  necessary  to  use  my  dear 
father's  hard-earned  money.  Xot  a  cent  will  I  touch 
until  the  full  amount  is  restored,  and  if  I  have  my 
health  it  shall  be  done.  Do  not  urge  me  any  more.  Put 
that  money  where  it  belongs.  It  may  take  me  some 
time  to  pay  all,  but  not  until  it  is  accomplished  shall  I 
feel  satisfied." 

"  Stephen,  Stephen !  "  cried  the  parson,  "  give  me 


LIGHT    AT    EVENTIDE  313 

your  hand.  Xow  I  know  that  you  are  in  earnest.  I 
shall  do  as  you  desire.  My  heart  is  full  of  jo}  to-night. 
May  God  he  glorified  for  all  His  blessings.  I  shall 
away  to  rest  now,  for  the  many  wonders  of  the  day  have 
tired  me  much." 

The  storm  which  had  been  threatening  rolled  to  west- 
ward. Far  off  the  moon  rose  slowly  above  the  horizon. 
The  night  was  still.  Everything  betokened  peace.  On 
the  little  veranda  sat  the  two  young  lovers  hand  in 
hand.  Heart  responded  to  heart,  and  time  was  no  more. 
The  present  and  the  future  were  blended.  The  rapture 
of  living  was  theirs,  for  where  love  reigns  there  is 
life  in  all  its  fulness. 

THE  E^TD 


NOVELS  OF  FRONTIER  LIFE  BY 

WILLIAM  MacLEOD   RAINE 

HANDSOMELY  BOUND  IN  CLOTH.     ILLUSTRATED. 
May  be  had  wherever  books  are  sold.     Ask  for  Grosset  and  Dunlap's  list 

)  MAVERICKS. 

A  tale  of  the  western  frontier,  where  the  "rustler,"  whose  dep- 
redations are  so  keenly  resented  by  the  early  settlers  of  the  range, 
abounds.    One  of  the  sweetest  love  stories  ever  told. 

A  TEXAS  RANGER. 


How  a  member  of  the  most  dauntless  border  police  force  carried 
law  into  the  mesquit,  saved  the  life  of  an  innocent  man  after  a  series 
of  thrilling  adventures,  followed  a  fugitive  to  Wyoming,  and  then 
passed  through  deadly  peril  to  ultimate  happiness.  _ 

WYOMING. 

In  this  vivid  story  of  the  outdoor  West  the  author  has  captured 
the  breezy  charm  of  "cattleland,"  and  brings  out  the  turbid  life  of 
the  frontier  with  all  its  engaging  dash  and  vigor. 

RID G WAY  OF  MONTANA. 

The  scene  is  laid  in  the  mining  centers  of  Montana,  where  poli- 
tics and  mining  industries  are  the  religion  of  the  country.  The 
political  contest,  the  love  scene,  and  the  fine  character  drawing  give 
this  story  great  strength  and  charm.  « 

BUCKY  O'CONNOR; 

Every  chapter  teems  with  'wholesome,  stirring  adventures,  re. 
plete  with  the  dashing  spirit  of  the  border,  told  with  dramatic  dash 
and  absorbing  fascination  of  style  and  plot. 

CROOKED  TRAILS  AND  STRAIGHT. 

A  story  of  Arizona;  of  swift-riding  men  and  daring  outlaws;  of 
a  bitter  feud  between  cattle-men  and  sheep-herders.  The  heroine 
is  a  most  unusual  woman  and  her  love  story  reaches  a  culmination 
that  is  fittingly  characteristic  of  the  great  free  West. 

BRAND  BLOTTERS. 

A  story  of  the  Cattle  Range.  This  story  brings  out  the  turbid 
life  of  the  frontier,  with  all  its  engaging  dash  and  vigor,  with  a  charm- 
ing love  interest  running  through  its  320  pages. 

Grosset  &  Dunlap,     Publishers,      New  York 


STORIES  OF  RARE  CHARM  BY 

GENE   STRATTON-PORTER 

May  bs  had  wherever  books  are  sold.      Ask  for  Grosset  &  Dunlap's  list. 


MICHAEL  O'HALLORAN.      Illustrated  by  Frances  Rogers. 

Michael  is  a  quick-witted  little  Irish  newsboy,  living  in  Northern 
Indiana.  He  adopts  a  deserted  little  girl,  a  cripple.  He  also  as- 
sumes the  responsibility  of  leading  the  entire  rural  community  up- 
ward and  onward, 

LADDIE.      Illustrated  by  Herman  Pfeifer. 

This  is  a  bright,  cheery  tale  with  the  scenes  laid  in  Indiana.  The 
Btory  is  told  by  Little  Sister,  the  youngest  member  of  a  large  family, 
but  it  is  concerned  not  so  much  with  childish  doings  as  with  the  love 
affairs  of  older  members  of  the  family.  Chief  among  them  is  that 
of  Laddie  and  the  Princess,  an  English  girl  who  has  come  to  live  in 
the  neighborhood  and  about  whose  family  there  hangs  a  mystery. 
THE  HARVESTER.      Illustrated  by  W.  L.  Jacobs. 

"The  Harvester,"  is  a  man  of  the  woods  and  fields,  and  if  the 
book  had  nothing  in  it  but  the  splendid  figure  of  this  man  it  would 
be  notable.     But  when  the  Girl  comes  to  his  ''  Medicine  Woods," 
there  begins  a  romance  of  the  rarest  idyllic  quality. 
FRECKLES.      Illustrated. 

Freckles  is  a  nameless  waif  when  the  tale  opens,  but  the  way  in 
which  he  takes  hold  of  life  ;  the  nature  friendships  he  forms  in  the 
great  Limberlost  Swamp  ;  the  manner  in  which  everyone  who  meets 
him  succumbs  to  the  charm  of  his  engaging  personality  ;  and  his 
love-story  with  "  The  Angel  "  are  full  of  real  sentiment, 
A  GIRL  OF  THE  LIMBERLOST.      Illustrated. 

The  story  of  a  girl  of  the  Michigan  woods ;  a  buoyant,  loveable 
type  of  the  self-reliant  American.  Her  philosophy  is  one  of  love  and 
kindness  towards  all  things  ;  her  hope  is  never  dimmed.  And  by 
the  sheer  beauty  of  her  soul,  and  the  purity  of  her  vision,  she  wins  from 
barren  and  unpromising  surroundings  those  rewards  of  high  courage. 
AT  THE  FOOT  OF  THE  RAINBOW.      Illustrations  in  colors.         j 

The  scene  of  this  charming  love  story  is  laid  in  Central  Indiana. 
The   story  is  one  of  devoted  friendship,  and  tender  self-sacrificing 
love*.     The  novel  is  brimful  of  the  most  beautiful  word  painting  of 
nature,  and  its  pathos  and  tender  sentiment  will  endear  it  to  all. 
THE  SONG  OF  THE  CARDINAL.      Profusely  illustrated. 

A  love  ideal  of  the  Cardinal  bird  and  his  mate,  told  with  delicacy 
and  humor. 

Grosset  &  Dunlap,        Publishers,         New  York 


ZANE  GREY'S  NOVELS 

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THE  LIGHT  OF  WESTERN  STARS 

A  New  York  society  girl  buys  a  ranch  which  becomes  the  center  of  frontier  war- 
fare. Her  loyal  superintendent  rescues  her  when  she  is  captured  by  bandits.  A 
surprising  climax  brings  the  story  to  a  delightful  close. 

THE  RAINBOW  TRAIL 

I     The  story  of  a  young  clergyman  who  becomes  a  wanderer  in  the  great  western 
uplands— until  at  last  love  and  faith  awake.  i 

DESERT  GOLD 

The  story  describes  the  recent  uprising:  along  the  border,  and  ends  with  the  finding 
of  the  gold  which  two  prospectors  had  willed  to  the  girl  who  is  the  story's  heroine.  , 

RIDERS  OF  THE  PURPLE  SAGE 

A  picturesque  romance  of  Utah  of  some  forty  years  ago  when  Mormon  authority 
ruled.    The  prosecution  of  Jane  Withersteen  is  the  theme  of  the  story. 

THE  LAST  OF  THE  PLAINSMEN 

This  is  the  record  of  a  trip  which  the  author  took  with  Buffalo  Jones,  known  as  the 
preserver  of  the  American  bison,  across  the  Arizona  desert  and  of  a  hunt  in  "that 
wonderful  country  of  deep  canons  and  giant  pines." 

THE  HERITAGE  OF  THE  DESERT 

A  lovely  girl,  who  has  been  reared  among  Mormons,  learns  to  love  a  young  New 
Englander.  The  Mormon  religion,  however,  demands  that  the  girl  shall  become 
the  second  wife  of  one  of  the  Mormons — Well,  that's  the  problem  of  this  great  story. 

THE  SHORT  STOP 

The  young  hero,  tiring  of  his  factory  grind,  starts  out  to  win  fame  and  fortune  as 
a  professional  ball  player.  His  hard  knocks  at  the  start  are  followed  by  such  success 
as  clean  sportsmanship,  courage  and  honesty  ought  to  win.  \ 

BETTY  ZANE 

This  story  tells  of  the  bravery  and  heroism  of  Betty,  the  beautiful  young  sister  of 
old  Colonel  Zane,  one  of  the  bravest  pioneers. 

THE  LONE  STAR  RAxNGER 

After  killing  a  man  in  self  defense,  Buck  Duane  becomes  an  outlaw  along  the 
Texas  border._  In  a  camp  on  the  Mexican  side  of  the  river,  he  finds  a  young  girl  held 
prisoner,  and  in  attempting  to  rescue  her,  brings  down  upon  himself  the  wrath  of  her 
captors  and  henceforth  is  hunted  on  one  side  by  honest  men,  on  the  other  by  outlaws. 

THE  BORDER  LEGION 

Joan  Randle,  in  a  spirit  of  anger,  sent  Jim  Cleve  out  to  a  lawless  Western  mining; 
camp,  to  prove  his  mettle.  Then  realizing  that  she  loved  him — she  followed  him  out. 
On  her  way,  she  is  captured  by  a  bandit  band,  and  trouble  begins  when  she  shoots 
Kells,  the  leader — and  nurses  him  to  health  again.  Here  enters  another  romance— 
\  when  Joan,  disguised  as  an  outlaw,  observes  Jim,  in  the  throes  of  dissipation.  A  gold 
6trike,  a  thrilling  robbery— gambling  and  gun  play  carry  you  along  breathlessly. 

THE    LAST  OF  THE  GREAT  SCOUTS,        "" 

i  _ 

By  Helen  Cody  Wetmore  and  Zane  Grey 

The  life  story  of  Colonel  William  F.  Cody,  "  Buffalo  Bill,"  as  told  by  his  sister  and 
Zane  Grey.  It  begins  with  his  boyhood  in  Iowa  and  his  first  encounter  with  an  In- 
dian. We  see  "Bill"  as  a  pony  express  rider,  then  near  Fort  Sumter  as  Chief  of 
the  Scouts,  and  later  engaged  in  the  most  dangerous  Indian  campaigns.  There  is 
also  a  very  interesting  account  of  the  travels  of  "The  Wild  West"  Show.  No  char- 
acter In  public  life  makes  a  stronger  appeal  to  the  imagination  of  America  than 
"  Buffalo  Bill,"  whose  daring  and  bravery  made  him  famous. 

Grosset  &  Dunlap,        Publishers,         New  York. 


THE  NOVELS  OF 

MARY   ROBERTS    RINEHART 


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"K."     Illustrated. 

K.  LeMoyne,  famous  surgeon,  drops  out  of  the  world  that 
has  known  him,  and  goes  to  live  in  a  little  town  where 
beautiful  Sidney  Page  lives.  She  is  in  training  to  become  a 
nurse.  The  joys  and  troubles  of  their  young  love  are  told 
with  that  keen  and  sympathetic  appreciation  which  has 
made  the  author  famous. 

THE  MAN  IN  LOWER  TEN. 

Illustrated  by  Howard  Chandler  Christy. 

An  absorbing  [detective  story  woven  around  the  mysteri- 
ous death  of  the  "Man  in  Lower  Ten."  The  strongest 
elements  of  Mrs.  Rinehart's  success  are  found  in  this  book. 

WHEN  A  MAN  MARRIES. 

Dlustrated  by  Harrison  Fisher  and  Mayo  Bunker. 

A  young  artist,  whose  wife  had  recently  divorced  him, 
finds  that  his  aunt  is  soon  to  visit  him.  The  aunt,  who 
contributes  to  the  family  income  and  who  has  never  seen 
the  wife,  knows  nothing  of  the  domestic  upheaval.  How 
ihe  young  man  met  the  situation  is  humorously  and  most 
entertainingly  told. 

THE  CIRCULAR  STAIRCASE.     Illus.  by  Lester  Ralph. 

The  summer  occupants  of  *' Sunnyside  "  find  the  dead 
body  of  Arnold  Armstrong,  the  son  of  the  owner,  on  the  cir- 
cular staircase.  Following  the  murder  a  bank  failure  is  an- 
nounced. Around  these  two  events  is  woven  a  plot  of 
absorbing  interest. 

THE  STREET  OF  SEVEN  STARS. 
Illustrated  (Photo  Play  Edition.) 

Harmony  Wells ,  studying  in  Vienna  to  be  a  great  vio- 
linist, suddenly  realizes  that  her  money  is  almost  gone.  She 
meets  a  young  ambitious  doctor  who  offers  her  chivalry  and 
sympathy,  and  together  with  world-worn  Dr.  Anna  and 
Jimmie,  the  waif,  they  share  their  love  and  slender  means. 

Grosset  &  Dunlap,        Publishers,         New  York 


BOOTH     TARKINGTON'S 

NOVELS m 

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SEVENTEEN.    Illustrated  by  Arthur  William  Brown. 

No  one  but  the  creator  of  Penrod  could  have  portrayed 
the  immortal  young  people  of  this  story.    Its  humor  is  irre- 
eistible  and  reminiscent  of  the  time  when  the  reader  was  ' 
Seventeen. 

PENROD.    Illustrated  by  Gordon  Grant. 

This  is  a  picture  of  a  boy's  heart,  full  of  the  lovable,  hu- 
morous, tragic  things  which  are  locked  secrets  to  most  oldei? 
folks.    It  is  a  finished,  exquisite  work. 

PENROD  AND  SAM.  Illustrated  by  Worth  Brehm. 

Like  "  Penrod "  and  "  Seventeen,"  this  book  contains 
some  remarkable  phases  of  real  boyhood  and  some  of  the  best 
stories  of  juvenile  prankishness  that  have  ever  been  written. 

THE  TURMOIL.    Illustrated  by  G.  E.  Chambers. 

Bibbs  Sheridan  is  a  dreamy,  imaginative  youth,  who  re- 
Volts  against  his  father's  plans  for  him  to  be  a  servitor  of 
big  business.  The  love_of  a  fine  girl  turns  Bibb's  life  from 
failure  to  success. 

THE  GENTLEMAN  FROM  INDIANA.    Frontispiece. 

A  story  of  love  and  politics, — more  especially  a  picture  of 
a  country  editor's  life  in  Indiana,  but  the  charm  of  the  book 
lies  in  the  love  interest. 

THE  FLIRT.    Illustrated  by  Clarence  F.  Underwood. 

The  "  Flirt,"  the  younger  of  two  sisters,  breaks  one  girl's 
engagement,  drives  one  man  to  suicide,  causes  the  murder 
of  another,  leads  another  to  lose  his  fortune,  and  in  the  end 
marries  a  stupid  and  unpromising  suitor,  leaving  the  really 
worthy  one  to  marry  her  sister. 

Ask  f°r  Complete  free  list  of  G.    &  D.    Popular  Copyrighted  Fiction 

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KATHLEEN  NORRIS'   STORIES 


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MOTHER.     Illustrated  by  F.  C.  Yohn. 

This  book  has  a  fairy-story  touch,  'counterbalanced  by 
the  sturdy  reality  of  struggle,  sacrifice,  and  resulting  peace 
and  power  of  a  mother's  experiences. 

SATURDAY'S  CHILD. 
Frontispiece  by  F.  Graham  Cootes. 

Out  on  the  Pacific  coast  a  normal  girl,  obscure  and  lovely, 
makes  a  quest  for  happiness.  She  passes  through  three 
stages — poverty,-  wealth  and  service — and  works  out  a 
creditable  salvation. 

THE  RICH  MRS.  BURGOYNE. 

Illustrated  by  Lucius  H.  Hitchcock. 

The  story  of  a  sensible  woman  who' keeps  within  her 
means,  refuses  to  be  swamped  by  social  engagements,  fives 
%  normal  human  life  of  varied  interests,  and  has  her  own 
Romance. 

THE  STORY  OF  JULIA  PAGE. 
Frontispiece  by  Allan  Gilbert. 

How  Julia  Page,  reared  in  rather  unpromising  surround- 
ings, lifted  herself  through  sheer  determination  to  a  higher 
plane  of  life. 

THE  HEART  OF  RACHAEL. 

Frontispiece  by  Charles  E.  Chambers. 

Rachael  is  called  upon  to  solve  manjr  problems,  and  in  j 
working  out  these,  there  is  shown  the  beauty  and  strength 
of  soul  of  one  of  fiction's  most  appealing  characters. 

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